Curmudgeon - by
He is a man for whom everyone’s a trespasser.
/ Co-existence? He doesn’t believe in it.
/ Give you the time of day? Not…
hair
Pushing forty - by
Just before winter
we see the trees show
their true colours:
the mad yellow of chestnuts
two maples like blood sisters
the orange beech
braver than lipstick
Braid Claith - by
Ye wha are fain to hae your name
/ Wrote in the bonny book of fame,
/ Let merit nae pretension claim
/ …
Grey Hairs - by
As I sleep my scalp labours on
/ weaving glittering strands
/ from the dead fibres of my hair.
/
/ Never so noticeable…