Hallowe'en 2020

One day, a carpenter walked over the hills of Harris from his home at Bogha Ghlas on Loch Seaforth to Luachair, on the shores of Loch Reasort. After finishing the job at one of the houses there, the people told him to take any remaining planks with him. On the way back, his footsteps on the rough track came regularly, but what was that strange echo? Intermittent echoes of the footfalls? No, couldn't be. A double take on each footstep? Not either. Tap tap. Tap tap. The man shifted the planks on his shoulder to adjust for balance and continued. The dark face of Stulabhal reared up ever closer, and he thought the tapping sound was an echo of his footsteps from that great rockface. He had not experienced that before, having made the journey many times before. But his mind was in such turmoil that he could not remember that. The great empty valley of Langadale stretched before him, but his descent to the river, nor the crossing, nor the ascent to Vigadale remained with him. All he heard was tap-tap, tap-tap.

The sun was once more setting by the time the carpenter reached the bridge at Bogha Ghlas. He saw his cottage ahead, but there was no light inside, nor any sign of motion outside. The approach of any passer-by was usually sufficient to bring his wife outside, but not that day. The 'tap-tap' that had been haunting the man since leaving Luachair had gradually ceased. He threw the planks off his shoulder, and they fell to the ground in a loudly clattering heap. He called for his wife, but heard nothing. Opening the door, the cottage was dark, the fire cold. The bed was occupied, but there was not a living soul about.

Tap tap. Tap tap. The next morning, the carpenter was hammering a coffin for his spouse. And he suddenly remembered what the noise was he had been hearing all the way from Luachair the day before. Tap tap. Tap tap. The noise of his hammer, building a coffin. The noise of the carpenter's hammer, over in Luachair, as it too built a coffin for its master.

Barbara - 2

The sun had just risen
and took your light
with it
beyond our sphere of being

All I'm left with is
memories
reminders
echoes

What was needed
to make you comfortable
as the year wore
you down

The implements
of mobility
now stand
still

The heater
is cold
The hot water bottles
no longer needed

I look around me
and see you
the way you were
for all those years

A room
empty of you
except for
your things

A sunny corner
the sea whispers nearby
here you rest
until the Breaking of the Day

In memoriam Barbara

On 6 October this year, I lost my close friend Barbara. She passed away after an 11-month battle with cancer.

I brought you to your final resting place
under the sun
in the wind
by the sea

I was with you
when you were terrified
warding off
the oncoming darkness

I made you laugh
at sunset
on your final day
we laughed as light left us

I encouraged you
each night
as you struggled
up the stairs

With a stick
hauling yourself
around the pillar
bereft of strength

I sat with you
watching
detectives
and gameshows

I loved it
when you came along
for that final carride
up to the top of the moor

Your fight
was valiant
right
to the very end

National Poetry Day 2020

It's National Poetry Day. Let's pen a few lines.

Washing over the moors
like waves of green
the swells of peat
formed from aeons of plantlife

Founded over ancient rocks
dating back to the start
of our very planet
the peat stretches for miles

A swirl of scented smoke
is the first release
of solar energy
captured in the chlorophyll of yore