The emptied moorland brought its perfect chill, a wind upon a song
A melody upon a breeze; soul cleansing, life enhancing, dot swirling
We worked on, together.  Our quest irreverent, our goal perennial
Endless viable inductions to the land
Our land and not our land
Where the laird lords it over us and we are bound in ancient law
Change may come.  Change must come.
We take the peat upon a pony’s back
Cut from heath, destine for hearth
Past common grazings and stilted flowers
Heaving perspires amidst swollen endeavours
Towards home.
Subsidy for a meagre, laboured existence
As tatties and turnips and peas grow modest
Toil for food, food for thought, thought suppressed
Jessie, milk the cow now.  Quick!  Then
Awa’ to school with you.  Awa’ awa’
Peace in the glen as repetition brings fruition
As the seasons decry our mottled good along the harvest line
We will thus survive.  For now