The Swan

I’ve roamed the misty glens of the Highlands
And seen its limpid streams flow o’er falls.
I’ve felt the sad depth of shameful history,
And left sweet spirits there to reconcile.

I’ve seen the magic sunsets of Arisaig,
The safe place sweet as perfumed dreams,
And never will I forget the message of the swan
Gliding so divinely ‘cross the bay.

The calm sea was lit by setting sunlight,
Such a sight was indeed heaven sent
For the swan came in like a Godly blessing
And I knew then that all would be alright.
 

 (Am, Bm7, Em7)

A last visit to the west coast of Scotland, ‘en famille'. A difficult, life changing period, more than twenty years ago.

On the first evening of our arrival, I wandered down to the bay of Arisaig. I knew that the sunset would be special.

At that time digital photography had yet to be developed, and one tended to believe more in one’s trusty Nikkormat, than what was then mistakenly thought to be digital whims.
I took some good pictures, then satisfied, started to climb the bank to return to the lovely wee cottage where we were staying. I turned once more to admire the final, glorious scene, and then saw the swan graciously coming straight towards me into the bay. It was unbelievably beautiful. The swan then turned as if it knew that it would be offering me a timeless gift. I only took one photograph. I don’t remember why. Perhaps because I knew there was only one to take.

Romantics like to read meanings into such memorable sights. Perhaps more than the latter really deserve, but one doesn’t have to be a romantic to be convinced that there’s a reason for everything.

I always smile when recalling this, because at that particular time it seemed so significant, such a sweet gift. For various reasons, including what I vaguely allude to here, I knew that everything would be alright. There’s absolutely no doubt that this has proved to be the case.
With the passage of time one puts certain events, even such fleeting instants, into perspective. One becomes even more conscious of how significant they are. For me this magic moment is a marker, a white stone. This is also why I pay homage to the swan.

Text, images and ballad © Mirino. January, 2020