A few weeks ago I found myself once again in the little cottage by Seal Rock and captivated by the night. After a winter in the city when the nights are long and so cold that we draw our curtains across them for much of the time, to have the night flood into my room alight with stars is always a special thing. Over the city, nights tend to hang like a hard flat canvas, if we are lucky we see a few stars, tiny pinpricks of light in an unyielding black sky.
Kintyre is a great place for watching stars because of it’s dark skies. On this particular night the stars were so low that I thought if the wind lifted my hair it could touch the stars and leave a trail of starlight through the sky. Instead of the hard city night sky, here, I looked up through layers of darkness, they moved at different speeds and in different directions. This was something I had never noticed before and was at odds with the sea, which, on this occasion was ever so still…
Here I am with my head among bluebells.
Here I am, with my head among bluebells,
Lost in dreams, in the little bay that sings with spirits under the stars.
On another night, I had watched wild geese swim beneath a copper moon.
I am lying on the edge of the silent sea.
Round the rocky shore of Arran the Pladda light spills out, I catch it as a gleam that dashes across the bay.
The stars hang so low they almost touch my head, they well like pools and glisten like water under the sun.
They, are guardians of the ancient night.
I hear their aria's calling, caressing millennia through the lucid layers of ages.
Past years watch over present under starlight.
A circle blushes on the curve of the horizon, another beam,
Over the owl clipped night.
|"On another night, I had watched wild geese swim beneath a copper moon."|