The campsite.

The campsite.

From my campsite chair near the

Shores of Loch Gairloch

I sat and relaxed.

The midges had finally

Died down with the arrival

Of a stiff Loch breeze.

High above small black swallows

Swooped and dived as if

Fighting a hidden enemy.

The high rise flies were

Getting a pasting.

Over on the main road

Just near the kerb

Lay a flat pack road kill.

I chuckled as I watched

Moody da hoody black craws

Jump on and off the road

Playing chicken with cars.

I swigged my cold beer

And read the back of Brian’s

T shirt as he hobbled off

Down towards the toilet block,

It said,

“I’m not going to look

For anymore than I’ve got”

He owned some weird

And wonderful T”s .

I’ll drink to that I thought.


View bendergender's Full Portfolio