Neil Higgins

Heather And Snow


Notice of absence from Neil Higgins
Simply taking a break.Nothing wrong,but will back in the New Year.
Will post a "ghost story for Xmas" ,on Xmas eve,however 😱

Wandering high through heather and snow,
my face feels the tingling of nature's glow.
The eagle *flowt on soar and wing,
without a twirl or curl doth bring.
It's eyes spy prey so far below.
Hidden it thought beneath the snow.
I will ever forward *yon go,
feeling wind so cool to face,
for I race to sit neath hill top tall,
to sounds of nothing but Eros call.
My minds digress to wayward day,
as clouds do fluffy and fade.
Not the time of roaming lacks,
neath feeble and weasel appalling tracks.
A cottage perhaps now abandoned I see.
No windows to spy,all open and free. 
Yet roof hangs on,with slate and grime,
reflecting here in the landscape of time.
what of the folks who ran to flee?
I see nothing but awkward misery.
Walk on says me within my thought,
for freeze and cold bring age of nought.
Body needs to warm not rest,
so blanket now protects my behest,
as I press forward with breath sounds lite,
yet orderly framed and formed.
My ears hear sounds of a winter's day,
so fierce yet oh so mauned.
I stumble on then,through slip and step,
as grumble brings no applause.
Yet alas I must not fail my walk,
to feed my slowing cause,
before sunset fades to dream.
For not to be seen in wilderness clag,
so devoid of pomp,and zeal.
And only blaggers perhaps somewhere, to steal my stares appeal.
Look over there,within the glare,
a stag does pause hoofs glee.
Magnificent beast his antlers look fierce,
his mindset is clearly on thee.
So slowly to tip on aching toes, like a mouse now scrunching low.
Even my voice doth rasp in form,
with fingers like ice to go. 
I see the fulfilment of wandering hills,
a servant,a tradesman to take,
a little coin for food and shelter to rest.
Yet in winter's blind eye,with little to cry,
my smile does half the truth.
An old bag of bones is nothing to thrill,
for a needy a man as thee.
Yet try I must in this place of the lost,
to be collared by little Jack Frost.
I think not my noble friend,
as I punt to stable affair.
For shelter and warmth,neath far side of hill,
is my triumphant, comfortable lair.
I doth my cap and curtsey low,
as spires do peep to view.
Down in the valley,neath hamlet and barn,
is my hope,my wish,so true.

*Yon: distant.
*Flowt: defiant.

Comments8

  • Joe Dawson

    There is much about the wilds of Scotland to admire and many an abandoned cottage to explore, I found one near Stac Pollaidh, quite an education in the hardships of the past. You capture the theme and the scene very well indeed. You took me back. Joe

  • Accidental Poet

    Never been to Scotland, but I now feel as though I have after reading this. Thanks for the mountain hike. ; )

  • Neil Higgins

    Thank you Joe.I simply love Scotland and walking the Highlands and Islands.Can't wait to get back when given the all clear.If its next year,due to Covid limits,then so be it.But I will return.

  • Neil Higgins

    Thank you AP.Scotland is an amazing place.Friendly folk,and beautiful places to visit.

  • Neville


    Och aye the noo .. or summit similar (deliberate pun intended) ..

    You have truly penned a breath of fresh air sir ... bravo say's me .. 🙂

    and just for you Neil ..

    When off to the land of the prickly heather
    If ya wear a kilt keep ya knees together
    Or ye may neva climb there agen man .................... 🙂

  • Neil Higgins

    Aye Neville.But its the breeze between yon knees,that makes you take a care.

  • Jerry Reynolds

    A fine write, Neil.
    Such a beautiful but flowt place. If I used it correctly

  • Goldfinch60

    My wife and I went to Scotland a few times and it is wonderful, as are your words Neil.

    Andy



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