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:
"the blunt fretwork of twigs" - I love this.
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.
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. :)
It's my teeth that are my mortal enemy. I'm on some potent antibiotic just now. Hope you're fine
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. ;)
I saw some lambs gambling in a field outside Knutsford the other day.
The opening stanza reads like a deep, cleansing breath of welcome. Picture-perfect. ;) Cheers.
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