As yi grow aulder,  yi begin tae  relate mair tae auld,  past-their-sellby-date things,  like
                                   landlockt boats


Tae escape ma fiftieth birthday
A took ma mind fir a bit o a daunder
(or it took me)
awa doon tae Corra’s snaa-white sanns,
whaur ilka simmer,
happier nor Larry,
da nebbie selkies sun dersels
an dere,
half-happit i da lang dank gerss
wis dis desfrukit skeleton o a boat…………

It brocht tae mind
first wan o Johnny Donne’s deep wee poems
‘…bit ayways at ma back A hear/ Time’s tumtitumtum hurryin near..’
- dat wan -
syne wan o Norrie MacCaig’s twa-fag verses
- ‘So Many Summers’ it wis cried -
aboot a desfrukit boat jist like dis yin,
wedderwarpt, gapplankt,

A sat doon on da boat an lit masel a fag.
Wis he sayin dat time teems us aa?
Abdy an aathin?
Du an me as weel as da boat?
A hae ma doots.  A dinnae think so.
I do not think so.
A feel kinna like 
yin o thon bren-washt terorists -
gin A gang
A'll tak abdy an aathin wi me.

Onywye as soon as A got hame
A lookt up 'So Many Summers'.
It wisnae ataa da poem A hud in mind.
Da poem A hud in mind
wis dis yin.

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