This is one warm feeling
I don't give a fig to what others say
To have the beautiful pleasure
A calm, energised, peaceful mind
As the snow falls
And the logs on the wood-burner
Glow
And the music, on the stereo
Is as liquor on curvaceous glass
Is as footprints in soft, warm-wet sand
No remorse, neither escape from nostalgia
To go just wherever that last thought takes me
As if to candy floss at the fairground
As if to that kiss, along the Golden Mile
There is no need to go deeper
All of depth is already in our memory
Or in our projections for the future
Remember Findhorn Foundation
The beach through the forest
Yachts in the bay
Walks to the pub, and to the store
Then the road out to Ullapool
With moorland, mountains
Ponds at the roadside
With deep reflections
Of sun and moon
