Bucolic Golden pink creeps down the hills tonight placating the world with a soft tinted light the bond with nature can only grow stronger if only this reverie could last a little longer in wide open spaces between mountains and sea there are glistening spring days where people are free the more things change here the more they stay the same as the tired race winds down towards the end game birdsong lifts our already heightened senses sheep and horses graze behind rustic fences as time stacks up and the years roll by the shepherd sits down and gives a long happy sigh Pastoral On hearing the first Cuckoo in Glenuachdarach Cuckoo, cuckoo - the heartbeat of spring on lonely fences is where you will sing or in long dewy grass through slanted woods your voice echoes through the scattered neighborhoods like a perpetual river with its calming sound only to be heard and not to be found a migratory pattern that wont change its course heavenly wonderment as pure as the gorse leaving ...