Outer Hebrides

Listen. Do you hear the silent traipsing of the red deer?

Perhaps the methodical and powerful turning wings of the peregrine falcon?

Look. Below the rocky outcroppings and shear beautiful, jagged crags -

Where ludicrous white foam waves strive to claim the land back to the sea.

Out from shore, the resting otter is content to float aimlessly

One creature is noticeably absent from the island, however – man.

Where is man in this seemingly endless stretch of land and water?

Is he oblivious to the brilliant parakeet green of the cliff moss,

Or completely unaware of the azure water below?

If only he could appreciate this beauty, if only he could know.

Know of the Byzantium orchid and the dew dipped yellow iris,

Of the smooth bleak black of the aged rocks,

And of the pale smooth stillness of the white sand beach.

Then, perhaps, he would marvel and consider in awe,

That all his life and problems were, in comparison, so small.