The tide is sidling up to Almorness, / unmet by those returned now north & west / away from here.
I could think there trembled through / His happy good-night air /Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew / And…
Mistaking the season / the dandelion is blooming / in the frost on the road…
Atween November’s end and noo
/ there’s really nithin else tae do
/ but climb inside a brindlet coo
I ask no lovelier thing
/ Than this December silver:
/ See how the light flakes off the new-turned plough
/ Under the slow great swing
In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane
/ The redbreast looks in vain
/ For hips and haws,
/ Lo, shining flowers upon my window…
(extract from the poem)
/ The twinkling Earn, like a blade in the snow,
/ The low hills scalloped against the high,
Coming up Buchanan Street, quickly, on a sharp winter evening
/ a young man and two girls, under the Christmas lights –…
The year goes, the woods decay, and after,
/ many a summer dies. The swan
/ on Bingham’s pond, a ghost, comes and goes.
Who doesn’t know I come from Rastušje
/ And went to school in Podvinje?…
/ A winter’s morning. Frost.
/ I’m walking alone from the village.
In the split woods a broken sapling,
/ Cold catkins that I stoop below.
/ Explosion of a blackbird’s wings
/ Kicks up exclamatory snow.
/ Silence, the…
Delicate ermine tracks
/ cross lightly
/ in eights on the winter snow
/ there where a hidden ice-brook with its white fur roof
/ winds forward,
/ there where…