July in Skye

  The passage of midsummerIs just byYet here I sit in jerseyed bodyIn Skye with fire lit Wind tugging at the chimney breastWishing to enterAs a dramatic guest The hills of SkyeDistant and forebodingIn a heavy brocade of bluey blackAre stepped in tones of rain shrouded haze The window frames the fuchsiaDelicate dancing ballerina flowerWhirling in its own dervish danceHmm… sharp contrasting colourDesign of the future perhapsReds and purples vibrant with life My soul sees it through teary eyes and rejoicesYet my heart is alone hereI will walk in the windBent in her embraceFingered on bare fleshBy her touchLoved by the elementThat mirrors my howling