Poetry Map of Scotland no 183: Tarlair

the StAnza Blog

Tarlair

The old man pauses
Catches his breath,
Eyes narrowed sea-ward,
inward, timeward
Tired ears straining
To hear the song

Snatched up by the wind,
the years, the sea-flung spray
of younger days
when she ran,
bairns scooped
into the saltshock cold.

Toe-stubbing pebbles
skelped fair shins,
Head flung back
on waves of laughter,
Riding high, a Force of Nature
His life-force … she was bonny then.

Changing rooms, now boarded
Saw the tight, white
wet skin peeled
from seersucker suits,
Tangled braids
wrung out, shook loose.

A dervish wind
Mocking, blocking
The slap and flap
Of dookers flung
by jumping boys
with ruthless mirth.

At Tarlair
Characters are salted,
Tear-stung, wind-whipped
Licked clean.
Music stirs the nooks and crannies
Time forgot.

And as they gather
Down the brae,
Winding through the rocks and years,
Friends ensure
A special place
in this
Circle of embrace
And Tarlair lives again.

Anna…

View original post 85 more words

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