In the glen - poem

Standing in the glen

I see the rain rush by

The clouds gallop across

the heather and rock

Starkness against beauty

Harshness against softness

It could be lonely

It could be cold

but no

the warmth of your hand

in mine is safety

my haven from the storm

that could over take me

You always notice

those moments of fleeting

darkness

No words to say

Just a squeeze of my hand

and all is well

right

safe.