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Poet's Corner

Coming Home.
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.
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.
We are home, in beautiful Scotland.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
People say 'What a beautiful place',
'Yes,' I always say,
'Aren't we lucky to live here,
makes us feel we are alive'.
          Barry Bryan-Dixon.
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