A TORRIDON PICNIC
A perfect morning, clear and bright,
We walked from Diabaig to Craig,
And found a peaceful picnic site,
Escaping politics and plague.
A herd of deer peeped o’er the cliff
Just for a moment, then were gone.
Was it my bark, or did they sniff,
Gail’s sausage made from venison…?
we love it!!! and we hope it was your bark LOLReplyDelete
Just beautiful and the sausages sound so yummy!ReplyDelete
OMD Bertie - this would have been great FFF offering... now work on another!!! &*> What wonderful peace must have been felt as you pondered yon hills and water and wildlife...sigh... hugs and wags, YAM-aunty xxx
Sadly Aunty, the poetic muse does not work to order!Delete
Bertie....you are a 187% poet.ReplyDelete
Well done my friend....this line is universal
"Escaping politics and plague".
I expect you might be right the deer got a whiff of distant relatives. BOL BOL BOL
Bertie we love your poem and those beautiful pictures that went along with it. What a perfect day for a hike and picnic.ReplyDelete
I hope you got a nibble of that sausage, and I hope it was as lovely an experience as the photos and poem were.ReplyDelete
Very well versed story, Bertie. We think those deer were drawn by your handsomeness.ReplyDelete
Woos - Lightning, Misty, and Timber
OH, sorry Bertie, we got sidetracked! Such a lovely poem and a beautiful hike!
I hope the deer weren't related to lemmings.ReplyDelete
Bambi... we love the poem, but if Gail remembers the movie she will know why the female human (who saw the movie as a child and then again at a special screening in London in the 80's) still will not eat vension even though the male one in this house loves it so much we have some in our freezer! Love and woofs, Riley.ReplyDelete
OMD, that is too cool Bertie! I would LOVES to escape the politics and Ma yelling at the teevees at some peeps called RePUBlicans. All I hear is PUB and thinks of beers and margaritas! Anyhu, I would have loved to have a taste of that delish sounding snausage!!!ReplyDelete
We hope you get those sausages.ReplyDelete
What a lovely poem, and yeah, we think it was the sausages.ReplyDelete