I saa the Tay Brig streetch
wi naethin but hills ayont
an the stobs o the brig afore
like rottet wallies in the draig.
I’d seen the teeth of gales whaup
ower the Law an tak storm tae Fife,
seen the hunkert scud slash
the farrest shore wi sleet forbye.
I heard the scraach o aviation
war an peace hurlin owerheid
tappin oot the Hiltton Multis
abeen Balgray, deafenin Lochee.
An yet, files afore the crack o day
the moon claws up a heich o luft
full and douce, a licht afore licht,
wi the brig-piers black aneth’t.
Thanks to Jean Duncan’s photo o the Tay Brig in the early hoors - wi a moon. The second moon poem o the wik. Must be seasonal…
Mindet me on Dundee an the joys o bidin there…
an the stobs o the brig afore
like rottet wallies in the draig.
I’d seen the teeth of gales whaup
ower the Law an tak storm tae Fife,
seen the hunkert scud slash
the farrest shore wi sleet forbye.
I heard the scraach o aviation
war an peace hurlin owerheid
tappin oot the Hiltton Multis
abeen Balgray, deafenin Lochee.
An yet, files afore the crack o day
the moon claws up a heich o luft
full and douce, a licht afore licht,
wi the brig-piers black aneth’t.
© BH, 2021
Thanks to Jean Duncan’s photo o the Tay Brig in the early hoors - wi a moon. The second moon poem o the wik. Must be seasonal…
Mindet me on Dundee an the joys o bidin there…
Bonny photie, tho.
There's a 'translation' if you want one…
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