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Aquarius Buried Treasure Callanish S T O N E D Q U A R T Z McMac Pardon? Tattoo Camera Obscura High Creagan The West Highlander Pot Of Gold StarVoyagers Deep Breath Vulpes Vulgaris Richard |
H.M.S. Belfast Firing Range Royal Visit Crisp and Even Elizabeth Great Court S.T. Barnabas Runaway Vengence Weapon No 1 Water Trough Woolwich Ferry CloudBusting Segas Showing My Age 39 Rue Grande Nigel Knows Disco Not Cricket It Is Better Mind How You Go No Flowers Ashes to Ashes R.I.P. Feminist |
Travelling west from Garynahine On narrow undulating way, Rain wiped clear in double arc, Side view blinkered by clouds of grey, Rising over incline, slowing at the leap. To gasp at sight of straggling warriors On the hill side steep. These soldiers, standing straight, attention, Resting after manouvers grand, Regroup around their stately general, Reform as like a marching band, A straight line curving in to cartwheel, Banner raised as hub at centre, Outliers, in obedience, kneel. Onlookers, quiet, stand and stare, No sound to release the spell. As distant rolling breakers Pay homage with their white horse swell. The soldiers, steadfast at their post, Relaxed within their arbour, Are now a sleeping, saintly, host. |