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As I walk around the blustery headland,

I imagine someone crying out for me,

There calls,

swallowed whole and added to the melee.

The wind blows hard, twisting and wooshing, picking and scratching. Nothing is untouched. items Even the naked trees wave their arms in surrender.

………………………..

‘T’was a storm like this, that brought down King Hakkon,’

My grandfather Jack, would often look back on,

He’d always have time to dwell on his land,

leaning forward, with dram in hand,

His glare would grow narrow towards the fire,

Recounting how things had come down to the wire,

Not a chance we had against them bohys,

They had ships and way maer ploys,

The only thing that we could dae,

Was hope our gods would see us through.

And then out of nowhere a fierce wind blew,

And each moment after it grew and grew!

The Norse king’s ships, battered hard we knocks,

The only escape? crash onto the rocks,

Where our boy’s swords readily meted,

‘Ner was ‘a’ combat so easily cheated!’

He’d chuckle, with twisted lips, feeling breezy,

No doubt casting himself as present that night,

The Norse men overstayed their welcome,

Now each, Cailleach will soon dispatch,

A blunt oar in hand to twiddle and scratch,

at hammered scales, of her displeasure,

A sea blown justice for the blood and treasure,

Imagine the young king, with wetted sword,

Gazing down on windswept fjord,

A hundred dragons tumbling desperately into a freezing sea,

his eyes captured every moment,

As his enemy can do nothing, but curse the skies,

His army drenched, exultant,

Still the witnesses watch on and stare,

Silently baying, ‘leave no heir!’,

This thunder of dragons blown out to sea,

Valhalla denied,

Praise, praise, mercy me!

………………………….

The warm summer wind whistles over my ears,

My head turns creating tunnels of stillness,

Small birds dart from side to side, giving me the road.

Down the hillside towards loch,

the ruins of the old Lang Broch,

A tower fort, built in ancient times,

To guard against uprooting crimes.

Its eminence is still plain to see,

I am drawn towards it.

built to guard a life worth living,

From those who would take it.

An ancient pile of stone, standing guard,

set on a rock throne overlooking the fjord,

a sentry from another time.

It’s good for us, its past its prime.

Something catches my eye,

To be continued…..