20. Seven Poets Hidden

I plan this day to walk the glen,
up at dawn, I spot a lark in the sky,
watch its flight till just a dot over the black burn, 
head on for hours, past the distant loch,
beneath craggy hills climbed by those more hardy than me.
Knowing that words can be worth a thousand pictures
I tuck these images away till the first frost of winter come.

(Did you find them?)