Blackhouse, Scottish Borders
(Former residence of poet James Hogg 1770-1835, “The Ettrick Shepherd”)
The Snow slips down on Christmas day
We have been marooned by snow for one month
Her face on the mountain slopes in summer and winter
The sky knows no one’s names. A gossamer duvet.
Love starts again, the finches in the woods
The fire warms us, guitars resound in the mountains
A snipe zig zags to paradise. Then the snow and snow
A naught nestled cottage, becomes a one.
You see here in the Border mountain’s there are no cities
Between here and the North Ocean
Snow buttercup, sun, brambling wings
To bleach the north with orange.
Then love begins again, with dawn and snow
Rice like bread like wine like incense like grass
A gale of clouds and waiting, and icicles of hope
Looking into her face on the mountain slopes.