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Everywhere from Scotland through Ireland remain hints of the ancient Caledonian forest. I encounter the boggy stumps on maintains. Home once to wolf and bear.

The Scot's Pine

Fdf5205c-8b5b-4da8-a6dc-63fe28d680a9by Billy J. Stewart27 Dec 2013

Resplendent and tall,
Whispering tales of ancient times.
You were everywhere.
They ran to you to hide,
They sought your counsel.
Mountains, heather, bog,
The Glens of silence,
The rocky grounds.
These were the mantel of your frock,
And market the furthest reaches of your kingdom.
You made the squirrel a feast,
The owl its home,
and the eagle it's perch.
The sun bequeaths at dusk a crown of stars
You wear it nonchalantly,
In touch with earth and water,
Your throne.
You held the keys to paradise,
What secrets you must know of Eden's Garden.
Time only serves your purpose,
To bring you to your Celtic destiny.
Your wrinkles betray you not,
Rather they give you certainty,
Like a loyal friend.
Return to your land,
And gaze upon foggy moor.
Take your fill of emptiness,
Hold out your gnarled and windswept branches
Over the velvet carpet beneath,
A barren soil its not.
Spread your roots,
And on sucking you will draw
The breath of joy.
Beautiful you are.