Pim Claridge

Life in the Scottish Borders, one stanza at a time

Trimontium Boy

Trimontium boy,
the skies are wider here
and stars shine so bright at night
I can see your gates,
but I have things still to do.
The swallows must be sent to fly
home beyond the lift of seas,
I must smell the flowers as the river flows
past the hill where pollen drifts.
I need to hear the owls at night,
to hear their feathered passing,
and see red kite hover in the sky
beyond Trimontium,
where I meet with you,
Trimontium boy...
When on heavy summer days
beyond the curve where cattle graze
your horse is tied,
and still he waits your lightness
and kiss of touch,
Trimontium boy!