Forward Looking
Home
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

Amen to that,

she said, cementing

the last word into place

like a full stop.

 

Turning sinkward,

she plunged her red hands

into the steaming suds

and scrubbed and scrubbed,

her wagging bum a

counterbalance

to the chop of her arms

through the laundry.

 

Behind her now,

the matter slid from

the air, like the trace of

bursting bubbles

dribbling down

the sink-cupboard door.

 

And I would have said more,

but already

she was looking

out the window, at

the vegetable patch that

needed weeding.