I am the mountain.
I am the river that flows down its flanks.
I am the wind that dances through the peaks.
I am the buzzard who drifts on the wind.
I am the rowan and the hawthorn,
the gorse bush green and golden-scented.
I am the road through the mountains -
the high pass and the broad highway.
I am grey rock and warm earth,
bracken and springy heather.
I am the rain and the daylight,
the tall hills that cradle us.
I am the mist lifting, and the cloud coming down;
I am a cold hard wind, and a warm homecoming.