In Scotland tonight, they celebrate Burns Night...

Poem 66 of 230: TO SCOTLAND, AGAIN

By coach from central Manchester -
    In-between stops at Bolton,
Carlisle and Hamilton -
    To Glasgow, these are sights I saw...

Some sheep, blotched vividly with blue,
    Filing down a well-worn path,
Did form a long woolly lath,
    Aimed at a lusher greener hue.

A farmer on a four-wheeler:
    His canine friend close beside.
A horse not on call to ride:
    On leave - a no-shoe non-heeler!

Convex pastures with heath-moorland;
    And flatter grain-planes below:
Cropped, awaiting till-and-sow -
    Perhaps with grazing beforehand.

Passed Edwin Waugh territory,
    Cumbria's sharp forms and tones
Compelled sense off seat-cramped bones
    To their well-honed long-read story.

Further north, farms of slighter falls:
    One a black-sheep specialist,
With some Friesians on the list -
    All held between old dry-stone-walls.

The Lakes behind, a strong Scotch mist
    Changed the sun to a full-moon
And hid scenery, till soon -
    Light, and the wide scenes on Burns' list.

New farms harnessing the wind's blow,
    Old white-and-grey-cottage views;
Plus pines, espousing the hues -
    In distinct leaf-tones - of Glasgow.

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(C) David Franks 2003