Catterline

Cottages and beehives
Winter sunsets
Cornfield at nightfall
Drying salmon nets,
January flow tides
Must seem like a far cry
From the town head and street kids
But they pay me the same mind 

I made a mark
On the ground
While I was watching the world turn around me

Catterline

I anchor my easel
in the gales and the rain
keep painting the same view but nothing remains the same. 
Waiting for the tides, and the shadows to grow long
God what a life, I hate it when our bodies go wrong

Catterline