Kathleen Jamie - a short poem about being very tired, but also about that escape back to the familiar we promise ourselves. You don't even have to make the journey, you just have to know there's somewhere like this waiting for you - even if it's only in your imagination. Lochan When all this is over I mean to travel north, by the high drove roads and cart tracks probably in June, with the gentle dog-roses flourishing beside me. I mean to find among the thousands scattered in that land a certain quiet lochan, where water lilies rise like small fat moons, and tied among the reeds, underneath a rowan, a white boat waits.