Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Blog guilt and Scottish Heather

I’m experiencing a bit of blog guilt at the moment because I’ve only managed one posting so far this month.  It’s not entirely my fault.  My kindle was stolen two weeks ago and with it the source of my blog-posting inspiration.  Plus, November has not yet failed to be the same hectic month it is every year. 

Here’s my attempt to make amends.  Last weekend was the St. Andrew's Society Tartan Ball in Washington, D.C., which is really just an excuse for all of us of Scottish descent to get decked out in kilts and tartan sashes, listen to bagpipes, sample some Scotch, and watch some sword dancing.  We're a proud race.  So in honor of this festive occasion I’ll share with you a Scottish themed poem I had to write back in high school (even though I still have no excuse for the complete lack of punctuation). 
Scottish Heather

In a tiny glen on the first of spring
Where the flowers bloom and the meadowlarks sing
There as children they would play
In a field of Scottish heather

The moment she promised to be his bride
His heart swelled full of love and pride
She carried on her wedding day
A bouquet of Scottish heather

By the glen they made a home
A place for their children to play and roam
On the door she did display
A wreath of Scottish heather

His world would never be the same
He told the stone that bore her name
And there upon her grave he lay
A bouquet of Scottish heather

Yes, I know, Robert Burns I am not.  But I dare anyone else to post their high school assignments online. And for the record, I got an A, even without the punctuation.


  1. This poem is beautiful. You should get it published somewhere. I don't care if you are not Robbie Burns. It is lovely, Mary Firmin