Poem for a Scottish Walk (for Doug)

Do we remember

Or is this walk

The very same one?

Almost flat

Rotunded

Hume's land

Heaves

Gently

It eases up

Onto

Short hills

Over

Summits

To Troll

On forever

We visited

In between

Thinning

Skies

Woven

By Ariadne

String

That pull

Gently

On green

Marsh

Meadows

We felt

Hot-cold

Drops of carmel

Sunlight

Breezes

Burnt on lengths

of hair

Roughied

Against

Our necks

Our walk

This happened

At the sum

Of another

Unnamed knoll

Cloaked

in Pink

Firebrush

The land

Beaconed

In blue

Insistence

Weighed in

Thoughts

From rambling

Last year's

Water

Me, pulling on

Clotted heels

Hefted

By many

Centuries

Weight

From soggied

Peat fields

Filled with

Vanished

Bones

Of captured

Souls

The grounds

Greener

The shades

Blacker