Pilgrim Path

This blog is the work of a seeker and poet. Walking stick in hand, I head out into the world, not of the world, but in the world. My words and my friends carry me along and light the pilgrim path of spiritual journeys.

Thursday, July 15, 2010


We missed the bus to Tobermory,
so we drowned our tears
at the Keel Row Pub.
Grizzled, stinky whiskered fishermen
in yellow slickers pounded down pints.
We ate our greasy lunches,
and drank our opaque ales
as we huddled ‘round a wee table
in a midnight dark corner
at midday,
and laughed
until the ferry boat came.

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Monday, July 12, 2010


Some old men sit on porches,
on swings, in rockers.
Others walk a pier,
fishing pole and tackle box in hand.
If they’re lucky,
a young ‘un tags along.

But my old mind wanders
to a solo spot
atop Staffa,
a small Scottish isle.

Walking through foot high wild grass,
I lift my legs in exaggerated motion.
Just ahead, hundreds of feet
below this hillock, I hear the sea.
Stepping gingerly, I find rock steps,
leading me to a stone shelf
made just for me to sit a while,
and be alone with the sea and the waves
and my old man thoughts and dreams.

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