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Miscellaneous
| The Burial Mound at Fowlis Wester It's easy to wait here, the wind blowing through The branches of the elms still my heart I came in uninvited although that was not strictly true My troubles asked me to come here & be with them They who built this they knew how to honour The dead but now in life I circle it Round clockwise a couple of times Once for the rain and twice for those other hands I would like to read the stone but they won't Show me their language instead I read The trees & one of them tells me that In 1896 John Martin carved out his name I wonder if like me he held his breath & let the time turn to sunlight Some startled crows get even more startled As the traffic rolls but not these thought Which cluster in this circle & the rabbits who Burrow here do they understand time & does it hold them as it does me A beguiling set of stones traveling to our deepest Distance the gods of their flight are worried About strange concessions & I am jealous Of them & what they have seen because I am part of a river here in strathearn & I am flowing From one silence to another & make no mark I have no stones I just watch the shochards Bringing in spring I say my farewells I get my bus & I'm back in the river. George Dunn This post appears as part of the weblog entry my first Scottish stones foray
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Posted by ActionMan13th February 2004ce Edited 15th February 2004ce
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