The Colourist
It wis the licht he desired:
The mellin pinks o the stane,
At Cassis, that myndit him o Mull;
But here wis flesh upon the bane,
And by unglowerin gods sae fired
That he lauched aff the hamewart pull.
A luve-bed in his studio
Celebrates auldest alliance:
A winnock apen ti the sea
Lats in the Mediterranean dance
O air and virr and the echo
O aa that Scotland’s yit ti be.
