Nairn, Scotland
(May 19, 2001)

Lying in bed in far north country,
a soft morning light comes on,
and a scent of golden laburnum
joins the songs of new birds
beneath our hotel window.
My wife sleeps secure in blanket and pillows,
While a distant rush of waves
meets the muted cries of gulls.
 
Away from the roar and rush of Glasgow,
I welcome the slow easy movement 
of light into our room—I sleep, I wake,
I sleep to wake and remember…
My Scottish mother rocking me with
soft tunes on her sweet breath:
“If a body meet a body, comin’ thro’ the rye…”
“Did you ever see a laddie, a laddie, a laddie?
Did you ever see a laddie, go this way and that…”
And I close my eyes to hear again,
“Go to sleep my bonnie laddie, Go to sleep my lad…”
Fresh tears for old songs; sweet refrains
echo softly of things long past.

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© Copyright, 2012, Larry Smith.
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