Across Loch Broom

from notes and a draft by Kirk Saunders

by Donald Goodbrand Saunders

So many townships like this,
a straggle of white dwellings
signing the track
between brae and sea.

Pinned to the slope
they endure weeks, months
of leaden weather till
the sky clears, the sun shows and they become
a bracelet of shining charms
and I think, Yes
I could live here
For such moments of delight.