Saturday, November 10, 2012

Glen Shee Head.


Glen Shee Head.




At the beginning spittle,
At the end, spittle on lip.
Climbed I, heartily to sky,
Where all of worlds deny,
What could become our ally.
Sweat beads on brow,
Rivulets of torrents fill the byrne.
Snow only an hour away,
And winter chills collide,
Filling the void with icy calm.

Views like you wouldn't believe,
High in the clouds of life.
Taken away in aching bones,
The stress of life, way below.
All I see is radiant in joy,
My heart is filled again,
I am still that little boy.
Captured by the awe of size,
Everything amazes before my eyes,
Glen Shee has come, a great surprise.