The Kyle Of High Durness

Where the mountains kiss the clouds
in the far far away.
Where the sheep and seas of heather play.
Where the weather in its fury flys,
the kyle of high Durness.
In the west of misty Scotland
where my heart lies.

I look west to the causeway
as the sun becomes stars.
The nights are crystal clear and far.
The scarlet skies play wistful pipes
to ears unhearing all my life.

As the rays of gentle silence seen
fade dimly in the glen,
and my tired eyes blink slowly as to sleep.
I hear symphonies of elements,
events of childhood past,
and my silence slowly fades away
to music heard at last.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.