Caithness CWS - Community Pages - Arts - Caithness Poets - Lynne Lewis-Saunders

Rainbow County
I’ve never ever seen as many rainbows in the sky,
But since we moved to these here parts I’ve noticed by and by,
On any day at any time you more than likely see,
A multicoloured work of art, laid out for you and me.
Who is this magic artist, and what here his design?
I wonder how it happens for it’s perfect every time.
I look at it with wonder each and every time I see,
Have you not noticed also for it can’t be only me?
The sky can be as black as coal, with just a single ray,
Bright sunlight beaming through the dark, it’s usually the way,
When all about is gloomy and you’re feeling pretty low,
The weather has us all depressed, that’s how it is I know.
Then suddenly you see it and your mood is glum no more,
And you begin to realise just what your heart is for.
I feel a sense of awe, a sense of wonder I confess,
I’m privileged to witness all the rainbows of Caithness.

Old Owl
At the closing of the evening when the shadows do grow long,
When the earth begins to slumber and we hear no more bird song.
The cattle are a sleeping and the sheep all chew the cud,
And everything is peaceful, just imagine if you would,
That deep within the body of a long since ancient tree,
The wise old owl is stirring, Majestic now is he.
For this is his dominion, inherited as right,
He comes into his own amongst the creatures of the night.
He soars above the ridges, along the rocky crags,
Purveying all the riches and the booty that he bags.
And like a single spectre, he sees the dawning light,
As sunlight’s rays come reaching with the ending of the night.
She sets a golden mantle, along the mountains edge,
Her golden cloak now covers every rocky windswept ledge.
The wise old owl is watching, he knows he’s not alone,
He knows who else has seen it all, before he now heads home.
And as he swoops away on ever powerful broad wing,
The fast approaching sunlight causes early birds to sing.
He hustles into comfort in his faithful ancient tree,
Twas the Billy on the mountain that wise old owl did see.
And this old boy has seen it all for many years gone by,
For what he does believe in he’s prepared to live and die.
As morning now approaches, as ever he’s on guard,
Life has not been kind to him, in fact his life’s been hard.
But now he is a handsome beast, protector of his flock,
To all upon this mountain he’s their anchor, he’s their rock.
The one who all do look to, for guidance and for strength,
He’d give for them his life, no hesitation, fight at length.
He’s out there keeping watch for any threat, for any foe,
He will protect each youngster, every yearling, every doe.
And every day that comes he sees the owl back to his tree,
He watches sunlight bathe his flock with hopes of what may be.
And ever in the distance, he keeps a watchful eye,
This lad has seen it all before, what happens by and by.
And at the close of evening, when all are settled down,
When shadows start to lengthen, and evening brings her gown.
The moon puts in attendance, and dances on the stream,
And all upon the mountain know exactly where they’ve been.
He hears familiar noises, he recognises sound.
Is that old owl a calling? Oh yes he’s coming round.