Skye

Oh to see the misty Isle

From on the ferry crossing the Kyle,

And oh to stand beside the loch

Amidst the baaing, bleating flock

And walk Dunvegans lovely shores

To Coral Beach forevermore.

Oh to see those Cuillin Hills

Black and rugged, clouded still

And see the hills of granite red

Towering above my head.

The purple heather lying there

Surrounds Sligachan everywhere.

Oh to hear the Eagles cry

The Oystercatcher flying by.

To see those Seals on island homes

With young that are not fully-grown

And watch the Otters at their play

Around the lochs and in the bay.

Oh to watch the dawning light,

On Bracadale the sunset bright

To see those shafts descend upon

The Tables Of MacLeod beyond

And feel a certain comfort there

Surpassing mundane life and care.

  © Yvonne Sparkes

The Isle Of Skye used to be served by a ferry from The Kyle Of Lochalsh but, sadly that is now stopped and a Bridge has joined Skye to the mainland.

This poem was written when it was truly "Over the sea to Skye". And I have fond memories of travelling this way.