The Moor

This is about a Scottish moor

Sadly, unlike the days before,
a darkness floats above the moor.
A cloying odor of heather's sweet scent,
upon the scattering of which a breeze is bent.
Another scent, fair, lingers in the in the wind
of rain to come with raindrops thinned.
A sound of birds upon the draw,
echoes of a raven, his forebidding call.
Open and desolate views the land,
though some would say its more than grand,
I feel alone here on this moor,
adn so shall I be forever more,
so shall I be forever more.