Poet in the Mearns
SONNET TO AUTUMN (Pitnamoon)
Where Pitnamoon dwells ‘tis a magic place,
Whose high peaks mark the hill walkers’ frontier,
And broad skies her tall regal heights embrace,
Sun’s beams that thrall the bright morning air.
Horse-chestnuts spread their ochre laden boughs,
Skeins of geese across the Mearns traverse,
Men of the good earth labour autumn’s plough,
Where golden heads of corn have swayed the merse.
Spirits of the wind on Cairn-o-Mount sigh,
The old military road winds, twists and turns,
To a summit who’s setting suns glorify,
A landscape bathed in gold across the Mearns.
Pitnamoon homely nooks lit to the night,
O’er stilled fields a harvest Moon shines bright.
© Peter Morriss 26.10.2007
Grampians grey heights cry
their rills of tears to the sea,
Galloping winds comb bendy
grasses across the lea;
Meandering contours cascade
their sweeping slopes of grazing
Azure skies break above Drumtochty
forest canopied deeps;
Heather awakes to paint wind swept
Swallows of Pitnamoon swoop to the
heart of its cynosure.
© Peter Morriss
The pictures show the chapel before the latest restoration.
Click on the thumbnails below for a larger image.