Aye, aye, hello, bonjour :))

as published in the New Shetlander, Simmer Issue 09

Da Hansel/The gift

Snöd,
steid,
spindrift,
crabbit swaabie,
da tide wis juist at da browst
whan we wan ashore.

Shalders gadder apö da broo;
aye, dat’ll be richt,
spaekalation.

Mön,
Meid,
Mareel,
Moder dy,
nae makadö,
shö wis taen oot her makkin
an settled doon afore da fire.

Oh, I hear dee –
Filskit corbie is waanderin aroond
da craigs…
Anidder bank an taing o laand
atween da haaf an da shoormal.


Twist in a rope,
dense shoal of fish,
sea spray, whipped, blown by heavy winds,
ill-tempered great black back,
the tide had turned
as we landed.

Oystercatchers are gathering on the hill brow;
yes, that will be right,
we reached that line of talking point.

Moon,
stone towers, ancestors to gps points,
sea draped of its phosphorescence,
fishermen home by underlying of the swell,
no pretending,
she stopped knitting
and settled down by the fire.

Oh, I hear you –
high-spirited raven wanders around
the rocks in the foreshore…
another cliff & tongue of land
between deep sea & water’s edge.


© Nat Hall 2009