An Australian in North-West Scotland (a letter)

A Wallace 23 June 2009
(written at Mellon Udrigle)

It's a long way from my pen to your door
We don't even see the same stars in the sky
but, sitting here atop these grassy dunes
makes me think of past times as though they were near
though there are many differences true.

The mountains in the distance, they are one:
Denuded slopes and knife-sharp passes cut
the cloud-swept sky like a slighted lover's knife
the lowest regions, the middles brown, the peaks steel-grey.
They stretch as far as eye can see or tongue can say.

Two, the sheep and rabbits graze upon the grass
this 'common land' is still novel to me
they roam as though this land is their own
a feeling that I'd call 'vacation free'
though they don't eat the thistles or the nettles.

the sun's tragectory is a gentle wave
like a spinning coin upon the ground
though travelling far around us every day
it seems to give but little warmth
and dawn and dusk both seem to last for hours.

The beer I drink is warm, the ocean cold,
though oft I hear about the warm gulf stream.
The summer evening breeze holds winter's chill
there'll be no night swims here, that I can tell -
we'll sit and watch, and eat and drink our fill.

My friend, though I've not seen you for some time
and we may not meet again for some time still
I've many precious memories of this kind
to hold, preserve and treasure then until
new dreams we weave once more from friendship's thread.