By the Edge of the Loch Painting

A Poem from Scotland. Blinded by daybreak, Trees, limbs and all, Break up the skyline, Gulls rise and fall. Swans sleepy backwards, By the edge of the loch, Eyes barley open, At 7 o clock. Erin go braugh, Wild swans at school, This ones not moving, In green shade so cool. Iron Bru rambles, On wet gravel shores, In search of the day's lift, It's found, Opens doors. Leafy through little, A thought for the day, Thumbing the pages, It's better this way. Torn cover jackets, From multiple use, Each day a new one, Curved shores, shiny blue. Over the Sandy Fjord, He watches the news, Down, oily pits with wrenches, He paid all his dues. My blazer was backwards, When the juice was let loose, I could be stumbling my way round, Aboot this wee hoose. Instead by the Lomond, I make a small loop, Before waking him for dinner, And helping with shoes.