Prose. Poetry. Winter. Poem. Home.
Scotland, My Home
Why be cold in Missouri when I can freeze my nuts off back home?
The Isle of Mull spits on the poet’s poetry.
It dares the writer to write, gobble up every syllable, sneering its dissatisfaction until the author’s forehead becomes flushed with embarrassment. To really know and love the Hebridean island, to get the best from…