A leaf is signalling in stars of light,
The midges drift
and dash; *
Autumn is being cautious and polite
Before the winter
Time's rope grows shorter, and I can't delay.
Consider what life
A pile of useless paper to destroy,
And dung to scatter on the
Leave as you go each seventh weed,
Allow the unexpected
For if in battle nature wins
A rising spiral then begins;
cunning man should win the war -
Dead souls on a dead star.
To greet the dawn was my mistake:
Midges are the first to
This rock country long besieged by time
cunning engineered and egg;
Out of the egg a thought broke forth and
Time will never catch it now.
The water speaks, insistent and withdrawn.
Lichen forms a
pattern on the stone.
This language lives; it's not addressing me,
something stirs, and struggles to reply.
* a midge is a tiny mosquito type fly which is very common
in Scotland. They are very annoying but largely