From the corner of Scotland I know so well
I see Edinburgh sprawling like seven cats
on its seven hills beside the Firth of Forth.
And when I'm in Edinburgh I walk amongst the mountains and lochs
of that corner that looks across the Minch to the Hebrides.
Two places I belong to as though I was
born in both of them.
They make every day a birthday,
giving me gifts wrapped in the ribbons of memory.
I store them away, greedy as a miser.