r2vyln3rdioj14u-rld0ska where mountains meet the sea: Dunvegan


High in the air, the air
Lies like an open secret;
It loosens its fist and lets
Islands float in to where

Round heads bob on the green -
Their dogs' eyes follow the dinghy
Crabbing across the tide.
Two cliffs and a sea between

Have stolen a space of time
And squander it all in being;
The sea thrills like a silence
Between a chime and a chime:

And the rowan digs its claws
Into the heart of the matter
And a rose is Lazarus and
Shuffling ripples are flaws

Through which the mind can see
What way the wind is blowing -
As this one, that drifts in
Over the boulder scree,

Where ducks squatter in mud
And, cubed on a kilted stone,
Stands the grey honeycomb
Filled with claret and blood

Where a great music arose
And Mary, Red Alasdair's daughter,
Made poems and ladled her snuff
Into her randy nose.

Norman MacCaig, from A Round of Applause


Gardendiggers said...

Oh, another great landscape! That dreamy mood!

Ange said...

Here - in poem and picture - you are not so far from NZ...

abby said...

just love his poetry, amazing turn of phrase, and your phot mesmerising.thank youx

Helen McGinn said...

You make me want to don a kilt and go running over those hills, barefoot and singing! That must be a good thing except not in this weather....

ER said...

As New Zealand songwriter Steve McDonald sings:

Here in the Isles
Rest for a while
Green rolling hills
Time doth stand still...

So come, come to the Isle of Skye
the seasons cry
Come to the Isle of Skye :)