Epsom Downs
Flat on my back
in a Surrey hayfield.
She's got me
where she wants me
she thinks.
Over her shoulder,
a shooting star
sears the face
of a harvest moon.
South Norwood
Flat on my back
in a London kitchen.
She's a philosopher
but gave it up for Teaching.
She tells me it will be Good.
Jordanhill
Flat on my back
(a pattern was emerging)
on a Glasgow bedsit floor.
She is showing me the rules
of a game
which involves throwing things
in a controlled manner.
It isn't cricket.
In those days
he was considered quite a catch.
Back then
he was easily bowled over.
I was drawn to this by a note from an Italian librarian who just happens to love Scotland and Scottish writing. If I can work out how to get notifications of your work, I will continue to follow it!
ReplyDeleteBy the way, my favourite restaurant in Glasgow for the past 30 years has been the Ubiquitous chip, so you can gather that I am similarly hooked by what the Scots do with words!