Biggar Kirk
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A Mither
Full Moon on a Cloudy Night
Forward Looking
Greeting My Grandfather
At the Eleventh Hour
Mary's Sang
The Funeral
Pyatknowe
My Faither's Words
Fallen Angel
Newbigging Road
Quean for a Day
The Booncin Baa
A Winter Dawn
Men at Work
The Milestane
Biggar Kirk
Brownsbank Cottage
Nuala's Art
Writer-in-Residence
Tweed at Peebles
On Biggar Pond
Elegy
Fowre Haiku oan the Beach
Yr Wyddfa
Thelma Cann
Old Acquaintance
Philip Pullman
The Dooble Rainbae
Ten Haiku from Whitecastle Hill
Tanka
Medwyn Below Greenshields
Sclimbin the Knock
Gled
Whaup Eggs
Socrates
Wha made this road?
Snow

They stuck ye up oan thon hill, A’d jalouse,

Tae mak ye bigger than ye really are.

Fur noo that A’m richt up close, A can weel

See ye’re nae mair than a paukie wee byre.

 

But mebbe an aa tae lift oor een oan

Occasion frae the riggs an mercatplace,

An mind us that there’s muckle mair tae’t aa

Than grubbin in glaur fur oor daily breid.

 

An though A’ve no much aise fur ye masel,

An staun forbye ootside yer language gemm,

A’m kinnae gled ye’re there tae glower at us

An lowse oor cley-claggit feet frae the grun.

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