They have a special aura, those
fine-tuned to life on the harsh isles.
Standing on a cliff, they watch
the sea retreat in a white flag of foam,
their remoteness permitting them to
live as much in myth as on a map.
Yet like us, they boast no divine insight,
and try to see what the future will hold
even as we imagine them
striding through dim highland forests
and living contented lives
in a landscape without concrete.