Walking Scottland 

On Monday, I saw a highland coo in the back 

of my garden and was eating the greenest grass 

like a goat that’s been starved. 

On Tuesday, I walked to the Ballast Banks and 

watched the glistening sunrise rising up to the sky, 

sending a message to the world that dawn is near. 

On Wednesday, I found a five pound note in the back 

of my school bag and was tempted to go to the nearest 

shop, but instead I gifted it to the homeless girl on  

the pavement. 

On Thursday, I touched the fur of a horses stomach 

and could feel the heart-beats going in and out, 

slower and slower the heartbeat was fading away, 

gently closer to its dreadful death.                                        

On Friday, I tasted thousands of meteors 

and could taste the magic and wonder in the 

still silent night. 

On Saturday, I heard the howls of a foxes squeal 

but sounded like a baby crying, sirens singing, 

and a baby’s birth but it was the loudest night in all of history. 

On Sunday, I dreamed of an asteroid coming closer 

and closer to the earth’s surface, tearing away 

all the lairs of the earth but someone had saved the world.