(at Ach’ an Dreaghainn – The Field of Thorns)
I found an Oban Times
from 1889, stuck behind the timbers.
It was placed there before
lifting the lintel stone.
He blessed the gate with a rowan.
The wood, stone and plaster,
slate and lime,
I nurture only, it is not mine.
Tell the tax man and landlord
it belongs to the wind.
I plant larch, birch and rowan
for the present and future.
I rebuild the stone wall after the gale,
knowing the gale may win.
For that reason, in the Field of Thorns,
I trim the wild rosebush