Old Stones (Skye)

Your Celt lives among ruins -

Abbeys and castles, byres and barns -

All of them looking much the same:

Four tumbling walls, the rumor of a roof -

A shadow of a thing worth building once,

Now simply not worth the tearing down.

 

But I suppose we all live among ruins,

Whether we can see them or not,

And there’s much to be said for keeping them standing

To be wandered through, picnicked in, loved.