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Saturday, 15 April 2017

Here is another contribution from my friend Lynne Emmerson. She was inspired to write it by a stormy night in a caravan at Lochranza Campsite one September. It seemed appropriate to post it given the windy days we’ve been having lately. The wind can create some beautiful sights round here whilst making terrifying sounds: at the time Lynne stayed the powerful gusts were flattening the sea in the Kilbrannan Sound and as the air skimmed the surface of the water the droplets caught the sunshine becoming a shower of rainbows moving northward.

Arran Dark Moon

Photo: Kev Fearon

A dark moon rises and the ancient gods awaken;

Zephyrs howl warning ...

Whilst the bubbling burn turns angry in its bed.

Black Crow sits watchful in the arms of Mother Rowan;

While owl feathers falter ...

And the golden eagle screams, and hides its head.

Bramble thickets writhe and reach to catch the reckless;

Travellers hurry homewards ...

When the Banshee’s screech announces summers death.    

Pale fire flickers along the curve of Earth’s horizon;

Thunder beats its drum ...

As wild white horses ride the Fury’s breath.

White gulls wheel over sea swells surging inland;

Sullen shadows swarm ...

‘Cross hollow hillsides brooding by the sea.


Timid creatures shiver in the bracken in the valleys;

Time shifts its focus ...

As the island’s slumbering giants stride free.

Crooked branches bow to the hoof beats of the Night Mare;

Lonely stars shimmer ...

When storm clouds race across the ink-dark sky.


Old folk lie silent whilst sleeping children whimper;

The Wild Hunt rides forth ...

And Black Crow laughs, and mocks us as they fly.

Cold rocks remember the blood of ancient battles;

Bones lie uneasy ...

As the shades of long dead warriors rise once more.


Night’s conflict rages as darkness claims the season;

Summer’s light retreats ...

And island life is shaken to the core.