Elegy
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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

Sprinkle me softly across

the sleeping shoulder of Medwyn’s bank,

where Carnwath Mill can look back at me

from the far side of the burn;

let the lifting breeze carry

my sleep like sunlight a little way

along Medwyn’s constant leaving, which

I would but cannot follow.

 

I will linger there awhile

in the company of my childhood,

and eavesdrop the voice of the water

in the Medwyn’s many throats,

and mingle my memory

with the wearings of the sanded rock

that chase across its recumbent brow

and gather in its creases.

 

And remember me sometimes.

Bring your children to leap the islands

and redeem from its dereliction

the old bridge with their crossings,

lie in wait for the otter,

and fathom the depths of the river’s

slide between slow banks overhung by

the heads of the stooping trees.

 

But mostly let their laughter

bell in the hollow of my childhood

and ring on the water’s bright surface;

let it sparkle in the sun

and sprinkle softly across

the sleeping shoulder of Medwyn’s bank,

where Carnwath Mill casts its constant look

from the far side of the burn.