This poem, by Donald S. Murray, was originally published in the Glasgow Herald. I have to put it up, as it is so evocative of life in Lewis.
We do not need road-maps
to be sure of our direction.
No green lights gee us up to go
No red lights halt our progress
Only the passing-places where we greet
stranger and neighbour with a wave
Yet there are times we long to be snared
in a snarl of streets and bye-roads
Caught in a confusion of choices
Bewildered by the breadth of highways
To drive in the knowledge our journey
will not end on a pierhead
Or terminate on a sandblown track
Leading to a rusty cemetery gate.