Tunes (a poem)

The following poem was written by the story submitter (anonymous):

Scent of pine
mist rising
from the loch
splash of paddle

marks a traveler
making way
through early morning silence

quietly
oak, rowan, blackthorn
watch

aspen adds its voice
capercaillie thrums

fiddler’s imagination
turns all to tune
piper joins
as does the woman who took
her cello to the woods

with sunset stars flicker on
fiddler lifts her bow
so too the cellist
piper holds his chanter
dancers ready their steps

music begins
in starlight

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Stories are at the heart of what we do as a project and we are always looking to learn more about what the Highlands and Islands means to people who live, work, and visit here.

The timeless connection between people and place underlines many of the stories submitted to our project, including this one. We would love to know, what draws you to the Highlands and Islands - is it a favourite place, your family ties, or the rich cultural heritage of the region? Tell us below, we can't wait to hear from you!

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