Woken by Moonlight

I saw the Tay Bridge stretch
with nothing but hills behind
and the stumps of the old bridge
like rotted dentures in the tide race.

I’d seen the teeth of gales whip
across the Law and take storm to Fife
and seen huddled pannus scour
the farthest shore with sleet besides.


I heard the screech of aviation,
war and peace, hurtling overhead,
topping the Hilltown Multis,
above Balgray, deafening Lochee.


And yet, some time before daybreak
the moon claws up a height of sky,
full and gentle, a light before light,
with the bridge-piers black beneath.

© BH, 2021

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Thanks to Jean Duncan’s photo of the Tay Bridge in the early hours - with a moon. The second moon poem of the week. Must be seasonal…

Minded me on Dundee and the joys of living there…

Bonnie photo, though.

This is a direct translation - well more or less! Back to the Scots!