A storyteller magically reached out to me:
and I felt glorious.
That kindly reach,
the shared feel
of all my Carmichaels, Camlets and Bardies.
Scotland’s bonnie tapestry:
where charm is the pattern
of oor language and history.
A storyteller magically reached out to me:
and I felt glorious.
A wee Spartan and a Makar
sharing stories as two girls sang.
I wrote this poem in a cave on the island of Davaar, Argyll. I then threw what I had written into the Atlantic. So this version is stitched together from what stayed with me [in my mind]. This poem is for Alexander McCall Smith.