“Hamlet Upon Loch Fyne” , Scottish Poem by : Don MacIver
Loch Fyne, Scotland
Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington
In darkness of salten waters be stilled
The clouds o’er Loch Fyne hung low upon hills
Night falls gentle, Heaven by the ocean
Fishermen’s boat beneath moon drops anchor
The village at sleep, silent the sheep graze
A shallow wind drifts by our window sill
Morning’s fog creeps upon island’s meadow
In field surrounds lay thistle and snowdrop
House on the glen Castle Inverary
Majestic in caricature and lore
Wherest Gaelic Scots in fine lordly fashion
Spake proudly the moors and bonnie mountain
.
The Scotsman praise long of the fair Loch Fyne
As steeped in history, gentleman’s word
The beauty of eerie black water remains
Great mystic legend of centuries told
Midst nearby wood ruins of battle cries
Castles MacEwan and Lachlan attest
Drawn swords and gunnery of fishermen
Whose drift and trawl nets combed divided seas
In the air cast chilly a salten mist
The earth and garden Heather and Primrose
Green moor and mountain wondrous backrop scene
To waters of glass in silent refrain
Harbour Lighthouse, Crinan, Scotland, (Harbour Lights) Poem by Ernestine Northover.
Harbour Lighthouse, Crinan, Argyll, Scotland
Landscape photography: Nigel Borrington
Harbour Lights
By: Ernestine Northover
The harbour lights are beckoning,
Our stout boat is riding high,
By the distant view, we’re reckoning,
We are nearly home and dry.
We’ve travelled many an ocean,
And weathered storms so wild,
Of the seas, we have a notion,
By it all, we’ve been beguiled.
There’ve been times when we have wavered,
And times when concern was rife,
Many moments we have savoured,
And pondered upon this life.
But seafaring days are our days,
And when all is said and done,
These seas attract, in such special ways,
And conquering them can be fun.
But, like now, we’re to base returning,
Friends and family to meet and greet,
There’s a rest from the sea’s endless churning,
Somewhere solid to plant our feet.
Now the harbour lights are gleaming,
And the sails relax their strain,
Our faces begin their beaming,
For we’re safely back home again.
© Ernestine Northover
Nigel Borrington 
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