Mirror (Flanders Moss, Near Stirling) Poem by Sally Evans

I hear the water swishing down,
this equilibrium of rain.

I think of waterfalls and trees
leaves dipped with liquid weight,

river floods that rush and foam
from clouds and burns to every firth

but more, how the wet-sated moss
blinks this raised mirror full of light,

invites parched earthlings to stumble
and plowter in its star-shaped pools,

or patchy depths and aqueous animals,
their lives made possible by mist and rain

as my life has been made possible in Scotland,
this country I love for its rain.