Coming Home.

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On the M6 driving through the night,

we see a big blue and white sign,

in early morning sun.

Scotland, Alba in bold white letters.

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Turn left onto A75 we come alive,

Sunrise, behind mist covered mountains ahead,

twisting, turning roads,

meandering rivers and waterfalls.

Rolling hills of Dumfries and Galloway.

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We are home, in beautiful Scotland.

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Sixty miles or more to go,

hoping traffic is a steady flow.

Rolling pastures we drive by,

sheep and cattle eating, sleeping.

Some give us the eye.

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Shepherd and dog on their quad,

herding the sheep, ready to treat,

mites, tics and other diseases.

Their work is never ending,

twenty-four-seven, three hundred and sixty-five days.

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Driving on down the road, heading west,

mist on the mountains slowly fading away,

replaced by glistening snow.

Long shadows on the ground,

by the rising brilliant sun.

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Approaching Loch Ken,

what a wonderful picturesque sight.

Greens, browns, yellows, reds,

of the forest surrounding the loch.

Mirror reflections all pleasing to the eye.

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The white houses and cottages,

stand out against the colours of the trees.

Loggers trucks going to and fro,

where are they going? We don't know.

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Fast jets and transports fly over the loch,

for me, a marvellous sight to behold.

Wild animals and birds are aplenty.

Red kites, hawks, blackbirds and osprey,

squirrels rabbits hares and moles.

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Just a few more miles left to go,

Ken Bridge Hotel turn left,

New Galloway comes into view,

Home at last, what a pleasant drive.

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People say 'What a beautiful place',

'Yes,' I always say,

'Aren't we lucky to live here,

makes us feel we are alive'.

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          Barry Bryan-Dixon.

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