Loch Dochart. Poem by PAUL COLVIN

Stripped of all possessions, my naked loch lies bare
Flat upon her silver back for all the world to share
An emptiness, just looking up, she feeds the eyes of men
But the waters of this highland loch, made beautiful, my glen.
Rolling trees fall slowly to, waters still at twilight
Reflecting shades of rustic hues on this cool autumn night.
Its somber hills are brought alive, by this, my highland sunset
And a northern sky can let me dream, and troubles, I forget.