At nearly 20:00 hours in High Summer the sun slowly falls in the north-west and catches the beautiful beach at Calgary Bay on the west side of the Isle of Mull.

Poem.

 

Mull, oh Mull, why’d I love you so?

Theme parks, high-rise lets, night clubs

you ain’t got but what you have, I wouldn’t swap.

 

The peaceful glens, the mountain tops,

the bays and sandy beaches,

the sea-eagle, otter, basking shark,

so many quiet reaches.

 

A place like Calgary is overlooked,

and yet if you pursue,

to swim or ride the waves right here,

it's simpler than a queue.

 

While some clamber to the Med’s massed beach, for 32 or more,

I’d rather sit in peace right here, in 15 degrees or so,

and keep my calm, and find myself,

and love the heaven I know.

 

Done