Currie
Lorries for the Lang Whang
rattle windows, the 44 bus
comes in 3s, we wait for ever
in the morning for the adrenalin rush
of crossing the road,
while the smell of bridies,
sausage rolls, steak pies baking
in the butcher's, flutes
from his open door. Behind the houses
fields slant towards reservoirs
and hills: knee deep
in the Water of Leith, a heron stands
like great aunt in her Sunday best
poised to disapprove.