The Path to the Broch

There is no path to the broch

It is the Way untravelled

The faeries who walk there

Come by dreamlines that

Straggled and snaked

Once upon the land.

What sort of creature could

Set out with neither map nor plan?

It’s obvious

Only a fool

A beast of a fool

And that would be a man.

The broch is down yet

Still crowns the strath

That tumbles in to

The ink black loch

Once ringed in white

With a winding path:

Long broken off from

The broken broch.