National Poetry Month continues with a poem by a dear friend from high up on a mountain!
Sometimes, in the Fog
Sometimes on damp foggy mornings
I fancy I hear the skirling of pipes from beyond the mountain.
And sometimes, I catch the keening of the women
whose fathers, husbands and sons are lost at sea.
And sometimes, I imagine smoke from roaring fires on the cliffs
blended with the mist that hangs above the moor.
And sometimes, when shadows are cast long,
the strangest things are carried on the wind,
And I conjure in my heart’s hollows
the whispered rhymes from my clan’s ancient bards.
© Kathleen VanDeVeere, March 2012