Southern Flight

I miss you
in this land of late Autumn heat
Here the green cloaked trees
Cling on tumbling hills
Where sea meets land

In this land
the man with visions
twisted stone
Made great in azure skies

I dream of slate rising
from mist clad slopes
Ochre tinged mountains pulse
with the energy
I felt

I hear the buzzard's eerie cry
on distant winds carrying rain
and lost dreams
Crying to me
Come home
Come north