Raymond A. Foss Poems

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A long way from home,
My own home,
Back in the Highlands,
Once walked by my kin
Before they came to this place.
Returning, heading out
From the cities,
Out into the Highlands
Hills, shades of rust,
Of plumb, of heather
In full flower. Heather, that
Set Burns’ pen to writing,
Like the thistle, a part of me,
Echoing in my sight,
My history

September 7, 2007 22:27

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