(i) Sorpool Neighbours
I’m told: two horses
once filled the horizon; huge
neighbours in the West...
(i) Morning
Because of the rain,
we don’t go to Hoy. Gazing,
all day, to its hills..
(iii) Copse
There are no Birch trees.
No matter: sunlight silvers
Whitebeams’ lichened boughs.
(iv) August
So late in the year...
Rowan-berry time. Half-way-
home to Bridie’s Day.
(v) Evening light
That violet roof
under the far hills, blue sea –
up-staged by gold sheep.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem