Glag-gàire chlann Chrois na Cise
a' suathadh nam fuaran gun bheirm.
"Ciamar a tha Calum ?"
ri Alasdair am Marks & Spencers air dearg leth-phrìs.
Bonnaich-bheann
gan liacradh,
air cèilidh,
le ceathramh beusach,
suairceas fo smachd.
Lachanaich churs ga sùgradh a-rithist.
Fuinn-chuim mar 'Khilmarnock', 'Torwood'
a'seulachadh Sàbaid nam Manach Liatha leasaichte.
Siùsarnaich nan sàr-sgoilear
mu staidhrichean àrda an Eòlais:
'Sandy Bell's' fhathast air thòir an òraid deireannaich.
Ceòl Ceilteach - do leòr dheth
agus
Is ainneamh, air bus's dòcha,
fìor chorra uair
"Math ur coinneachadh!!"
Ach nas bitheanta
"Cuin tha sibh dol dhachaigh, ma-thà,
dhan Phòlainn?"
In Dùn Èideanns*
you might overhear:
The mirth of Tollcross kids
pealing towards hop-less fountains.
"How's Calum?"
to Alasdair,
in sorely discounted Marks & Spencer's
Mountain-hewn scones
at a ceilidh, coated
with chaste choruses,
taut urbanity.
Lusty laughs for afters.
Whispers of past genius
stalking the School of Scottish Studies attic stairs:
'Sandy Bell's' still craves their mislaid valedictory lectures.
Breast-penetrating Highland psalms 'Kilmarnock', 'Torwood'
amply sanctifying the reformed friars' Sabbath.
A flooded Shannon of Celtic music,
and
very occasionally,
perhaps on a bus,
"Math ur coinneachadh?"**
but more commonly,
"So when are you next going home,
to Poland?"
