Sally's poem a day days 1 and 2. I am posting them on RLB's site also on my
blog address below. I wont inflict them all on you but will prob post a
few here. I'm planning (currently) to stick to Glen Orchy theme throughout.
Comments, crits welcome
Sally Evans
http://www.desktopsallye.com
http://www.poetryscotland.co.uk
tel UK 01877 339449
Glen Orchy, Amphibians and Man
Single track roads to the horizon.
You may walk or ride a horse
or take a comfortable old van.
Avoid the time of day when sun,
evening-low, shines against you
and reflects off the sparkling water.
Pull up, reign your horse, or picnic
at your favourite waterfall,
its face worked back upstream
through tireless centuries
until the stone-age cairns
are some small distance down.
Here, past a modern shrine
of plastic daffodils, untouched
by such scarce visitors, are toads,
frogs, newts, copulating
in clear pools in the rock,
called to congregate each springtime.
Since our life began,
fish growing legs, unsteadily
reptilian, advance to land
moving away through dangers
to burst into a future known
only, and surely, by instinct.
Outsider, Glen Orchy
The browns and russets his eyes photograph
surround him in the pelts of deer and fox
who with the birds are his companions
in the tinny caravan he uses
for winter shelter. He lives out here,
too strong to die in harsh seclusion.
His story doesnt matter any more.
The farmers know he's there. These things happen.
A curt nod's all he wants, and sometimes,
from the nearest one, come tools or bread,
equipment carefully explained-away.
Sometimes he'd almost welcome that policeman
who'll never look for him, that angered shade
from when he tried the impossible thing for some,
to co-exist in regiments of men.
He's half forgotten even how they speak.
His life among the trees and river nooks
enjoyable at most times of year,
new summer light is pure and good.
Unsought between his birth and death
he strides across the boulders to the bank
where no road follows, he alone deciding
if and when he'll reappear.
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