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The campsite.
The campsite.
From my campsite chair near the
Shores of Loch Gairloch
I sat and relaxed.
The midges had finally
Died down with the arrival
Of a stiff Loch breeze.
High above small black swallows
Swooped and dived as if
Fighting a hidden enemy.
The high rise flies were
Getting a pasting.
Over on the main road
Just near the kerb
Lay a flat pack road kill.
I chuckled as I watched
Moody da hoody black craws
Jump on and off the road
Playing chicken with cars.
I swigged my cold beer
And read the back of Brian’s
T shirt as he hobbled off
Down towards the toilet block,
It said,
“I’m not going to look
For anymore than I’ve got”
He owned some weird
And wonderful T”s .
I’ll drink to that I thought.
Cheers.
