Tonight I sleep in the tall grass
And Queen Anne’s Lace,
Of the berm,
Where I am surrounded
By the sea,
The sound of her waves a drum in my ear.
In this Cathedral town,
Down at the village
They are still gathered on the green,
Skirl of the pipes echoes across the dune
To join her in song,
Here I will wait for night to fall
And dreams to come again.
In the morning
The water is steel grey and
Flat as a butter knife,
Storm clouds coast quiet over the firth
And out to the North Sea,
Towns people come with their dogs
To play along the strand
And the gulls let out their morning cries,
Circle, then fly on.
It is now Sunday,
This is my church.