Half a Twalmont
Stella Sutherland's 'Half a Twalmont' reflects on the passing of time and the course of lives.
Read By Stella Sutherland
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Cock’s stride at
Yule,
da light begins ta win,
day forbids dark.
Doon at da Hall
da young anes play at pairtners – random wark
da night, bit
dis year, next year,
sometime,
for dem da reel begins.
Da searchin caald o Merch
draas oot a life
at’s blyde ta geng.
Hyacinths, daffodils sing:
‘Never you care, dir life
whaar he’s geen!’
An here’s a pair nae mair
shilpit for sweet, raw
hackit wi sharg and greet,
hirslin taen apo tidder;
pairtin, aa carin lost,
minds set
on someanes idder.
What cam o aa
da traesir o da past,
da vimmer ida blüd? -
wha kens?
A lass wi bairn
draems voar an simmer trow:
scents, soonds, flooers
veeve as never
afore;
her face’s glüd
lights aa at looks.
Da Johnsmas flooers is oot;
day an night casts aboot
again;
we’re on da rodd ta Yule!
