Return I will one day,
To Scotland's glens.
I will make a bed in purple heather
Surrounded by twelve granite soldiers
Watching over me throughout the night
As Brigda gathers her harvest.
As dawn breaks,
I will say a new welcome to the sun,
Reflecting Inti of strange lands
And similar ways.
Morning dew on soft green grasses
Will wash away night fears
From my feet as I dance
A thanksgiving to Mother Earth.
I will swim in rivers
Swollen by tears from the Gods
Saddened by fading memories
Of a past losing a grip on the future.
And I will gather with others
In a multi-wooded forest
To hear words of wisdom
Whispered through branches.
© Annie McLean 23.08.00