Circle Gemme

Simmer's been greetin affy this year, wakkin-woundit,
steepit in cloud, sappy gutters an dubs aawhar.
Seek Mr Sun's packit a caiss an's gone awa, takkin a lang brak.
Simmer's gaun limpin oot.

Thon raggit penter’s noo elbowin eez wye, smudgin an smirrin,
dustin copper stour owre aathin. Glints o dull sun
free-fah fae eez specklt jecket,
smearin gowd, yella an roosty oarange;
a glisk o laifs hingin, sweengin beh thir fingrtips,
feart ti let go, birlin in the sough.
Wha'll be first ti lowp, ti laive
thir burnin hoose, flee the nest?
How come things hiv ti be dehin ti look si bonnie?

Sleekit Winter waits in the weengs, corpse-cauld,
hunkert doon in laifdrifts, switherin whither ti bide or no
bit bydin aa the same, daen a dervish daunce,
desprit ti mak eez entrance, shivrin in anticipation. Tremlin.
Naebiddy wahnts ti wait fir the Spring roondaboot.
Thi wahnt spinkies noo.

Fran Baillie