Winter-Time - by
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.
landscape
point of view - by
Folded card work
Hoy Sound - by
Artist’s publication
Hoy Sound - by
Scroll
The Land We Love - by
Just a line of blue hills to remember:
/ Just a valley one fails to forget,
/ Whether bound with…
Killochyett - by
Killochyett! … Killochyett! …
/ The dusk is drappin’ doon;
/ The waefu’ wind is whimp’rin’ in the trees;
/ The lichts begin tae blink aboot…
A Memory - by
Red roofs peeping through the stately trees,
/ A distant spire; smoke floating on the breeze;
/ The whir of aeroplanes high overhead;
/ Brown cows,…
Loch Coimpiutair: Dàn Gaoil - by
Loch an Iomair’s my treasure, cradled in sphagnum /high in the hills between arms of rock / with lobelia pricking…
Near Linton Burnfoot - by
Tarred roads, metal cattle-grids and wheel tracks mesh
/ so tightly no land can escape. Tractor ruts
/ cut deep into the grass to…
L’Infinito - by
Sempre caro mi fu quest’ermo colle,
/ e questa siepe, che da tanta parte
/ dell’ultimo orizzonte il guardo esclude.
/ Ma sedendo…
Sphagnum Moss - by
Sphagnum moss remembers. It recalls
/ the touchdown of each lark that tumbles
/ down upon its surface, the slightness of that weight
/ recorded…
Travelling South, Scotland, August 2012 - by
‘Necessity is not the mother of invention; play is.’
/ Ian D. Suttie
/
/ It gets late early out here
/ in the lacklustre places,
/ wind in…