Caithness

 

This one needs a glossary

It’s an attempt to portray the passage of time on the landscape

Glossary

dead-brochs                         = plundered  Pictish  towers

sepulchral  weals                 = burial mounds

ghostly druid-stones             = standing-stones (stone-circles/menhirs/megaliths)

Clearance                            = Highland Clearances (removal of inhabitants to make way for sheep)

flimsy boxes                         = new pretentious housing

fresh and eager crop            = refers to both youth and crops

peaty-flows                            = Flow Country (Caithness eco system}

foreign firs                               = alien trees - planted by speculators (also human incomers)

                                                 

CAITHNESS

(Pantoum)

He falls and snuggles like a lover to the floor

dreams spilling from the bottle in the weathered-hand.

Beyond the door dead-brochs lie buried on the moor.

Forebears are but sepulchral-weals upon the land.

Dreams spilling from the bottle in the weathered-hand

where ghostly druid-stones gather for the moon-dance.

Forebears are but sepulchral-weals upon the land –

grey-tombs blending with the plunder of the Clearance.

Where ghostly druid-stones gather for the moon-dance

frail farmer huddles in the shelter of the dell.

Grey-tombs blending with the plunder of the Clearance

as flimsy-boxes march in fashion on the swell.

Frail farmer huddles in the shelter of the dell.

The peasant wearies of the burden of the toil

as flimsy boxes march in fashion on the swell

to shoulder for the view they one-day will despoil.

The peasant wearies of the burden of the toil

just as a fresh and eager-crop spring from the seed

to shoulder for the view they one-day will despoil

aware the time has come to take the misty-lead.

Just as a fresh and eager-crop spring from the seed

out on the peaty-flows the foreign-firs take hold

aware the time has come to take the misty-lead

with roots deep-nourished by the corpses in the mould.

Out on the peaty-flows the foreign-firs take hold.

Beyond the door dead-brochs lie buried on the moor.

With roots deep-nourished by the corpses in the mould

he falls and snuggles like a lover to the floor.

Charlie Gregory
Caithness