From the corner of Scotland I know so well
I see Edinburgh sprawling like seven cats 
on its seven hills beside the Firth of Forth.

And when I'm in Edinburgh I walk 
amongst the mountains and lochs of that corner 
that looks across the Minch to the Hebrides.

Two places I belong to as though I was born 
in both of them.

They make every day a birthday, 
giving me gifts wrapped in the ribbons of memory. 
I store them away, greedy as a miser.