Thursday, 13 December 2012

Sea-Gift





Sea-Gift

The first box struck the shore
Whisky! It sat in the foam and spray
A Hebridean rhapsody from Fortune
From sea’s lamentable brine,
A given luxury.

Meanwhile, Neptune stretched out on a reef
Scratching his scaly thigh.
‘They are due a smidgeon of pleasure,
What with the rain that never ceases
Pounding their chilly acres.’

Crofters came hurtling through the tide
Wizened or young, with the great thirst on them

Even the scrunts of bushes, the sodden sheep
Looked up from their pious immersion in the hum-drum
Saying, ‘ochone, there will come a day of reckoning
Mark well, there is no pleasure without pain
Tè mhòr le beagan uisge
A large measure of whisky  with a little water
There will be the Devil to pay e’er this day’s done.’

Sheena Blackhall

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