a poem by William Willis, Scotland

Note for clarification purposes- a loch is the Scottish equivalent of a lake.

Sedation of Loch Alvie as this winter chill descends.
Medication of the water as the ice it forms and blends.
Mirrored pine tree table-top, two red grouse gliding high.
Contemplating landing as they drop down from the sky.

No paddling in the water, loch has frozen, stiff and strong.
Red grouse standing still now,as they cackle, "somethings wrong."
The ducks have sought their shelter and the swans have all gone too.
No rippling of the water,around it's edges, frosted dew.

Associated stillness, loch engulfed in silent shroud.
Sky is bitter blue but with pleasure, looks down proud.
It stamps it's brand upon the loch, with piercing morning light.
Tartan spectrum bouncing off the ice and showing it's delight.

Church bell tolls loudly, breaks the silence in the air.
A resting place for many,tombstones glisten in the glare.
This tranquil place of peace overlooks this loch, serene.
A more peaceful place on earth, i have surely never seen.

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