Song of the Pebble
(after George Mackay Brown)
Said pebble to black tulip:
‘Whirl until you’re dark tatters, then die’.
Said pebble to owl: ‘A chipped cry, a feathered face.
Soon. Soon. Soon.’
The pebble spoke to a man drilling a hole in a wall.
‘Tea; breakfast cob. Tonight, draughts of ale; a long sleep’.
Sang pebble to moon:
‘Flash, old lamp I wear after rain, teeming neutrals of first light’,
Said pebble to snowflake:
‘Don’t melt, we’re for the pub, remember, stay cold’.
Pebble in watch, time
in my hand, palmed, cheap strap, throb, curls upon silence.
3 Comments Add yours
A gorgeous photograph, Pam.
Sorry for the delay…thznks Michelle