Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Sunny Days


Warm and luscious weather. Well done Tom Pow for winning the Best Scottish Poetry Book of the year. What with Rab Wilson winning the McCash, it's turning out to be a good year for the forgotten Region. Perhaps more to come?





A Sunny Day


Leaves scoop up light, spill
some to burn in puddles
or the blunt fretwork of twigs
where birds chuckle and twitch.

The sun has come
like some forgotten cousin
looking for a bed and a lift
early tomorrow to the airport.

We will probably react
with 40 cans of Export
for the price of 36. Then,
in the cool of the evening,

skulls will be gently split,
as the Nith lies languid
and exotic as hammered gold,
and it will all end as it started,

a sudden lurid surprise
in the grey slate of skies.

7 comments:

Sorlil said...

"the blunt fretwork of twigs" - I love this.

shug said...

thank you very much madam. I've been looking at your own prodigious efforts with a sense of awe. If I can write a poem a month I'm lucky.

hope said...

This brightened up my less than cheerful day...a midnight visit to the hospital for allergy problems.

You made Spring seem fun again instead of my mortal, pollen spewing enemy. :)

shug said...

It's my teeth that are my mortal enemy. I'm on some potent antibiotic just now. Hope you're fine

hope said...

Ah, the world of dental medicine is not my favorite. I'm hoping last year was the worst of it.

I wish you a speedy recovery...and a get out of jail free card if you so choose to hit the dentist. ;)

Stooshie said...

I saw some lambs gambling in a field outside Knutsford the other day.

S.L. Corsua said...

The opening stanza reads like a deep, cleansing breath of welcome. Picture-perfect. ;) Cheers.