Half a Twalmont By Stella Sutherland

Stella Sutherland's 'Half a Twalmont' reflects on the passing of time and the course of lives.

Read By Stella Sutherland

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!