A Poem

Carlin 1

it’s a coorse nicht in the toun
the nicht
an ma thochts rin
like skellt quiksiller
ower the glens o Angus,
the five fingers o a goddess
lang asleep,
in a sair-wrocht dwam
this hauf-age past;
an haein seen
whit A hae seen there
dreamt what A hae dreamt
when faur awa
A sey but this
tak tent
smell the win
an keek about ye;
is she no steerin in her sleep?
an, mind on this
the time o man is as
in the tides o time
that surge an faw
tae the pulsin o her bluid


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