The Wanting van Hamish Brown

I want to walk quiet

My feet swishing through dewy gale

In a distant glen

Where the budding birches shimmer

Along a busy burn

And an early eagle spins the world

On a wing’s turn

 

Heaven to me is a curlew morning

In the sun-strong hills.

There stiffened senses can stretch

And a lark-heart soar,

There, some start to salvation,

Away from the claustrophobic World

And its iron-studded doors.

 

Touch old earth for it yields new dawns.

Laugh like a running child.

No wonder Christ was led to a mountain top

And offered the world free.

I wouldn’t have it either, but

It, alas, has me.

 

The Last Hundred Munroes, Hamish Brown