Aonach Mor

Aonach Mor

Northern lights that are amazing

Like a green fire that’s blazing

Above the Mountain hearth beneath the sky

Jagged skyline like rows of teeth

 Rising up from those soft gums beneath

Always pushing, stirring, nudging

The sky not budging

Pilgrim clouds are rushing turning

To be nearer their destination

In the cold of Mountain heights

The stars come out like diamond kites

Twinkling, shimmering in silver sprinkling

Like star dust glimmering

Shining down

And then the cold air

That’s blaring, sneering, snarling

Staring hard down

The wind which bustles, hustles, rustles

Rampaging tussles of heathery ground

In its stampede, walkers impede

Deer hunker into the hollow some more

When they arise the mornings bright

With frost that bites

Before it thaws

And the air it fills with steam

From the nostrils of the stag

As he stands beside the stream

Drinks its cool water from off a crag

And his harem of does that follow

Tread lightly, nimbly through the fallow grass

As winter grips into his hollow

His antlers stand hard, as a guard stands fast

Ever battling the coming storm

Built of granite, Mountain born

Open hands of thorns inviting

Call down rains from Heaven’s fountain

Implore the Gods of the grey peaks whitening

To keep his coat of fur from lightening

That keeps his strong heart warm