A Galloway Burn in June

A Galloway Burn in June

gall burn

Brown burn water dropping
Between the grey stones,
The lapse and the murmur,
The bright overtones
Of cuckoo and curlew
And faraway trill
Of a lark; great blue shadows
Stride over the hill:
Breeze and bird-call are blended
With murmur of bees;
Sun and wind stroke the grasses
And finger the trees.
Is it sunlight or greenlight?
This shimmer of leaves;
Is it seeing or dreaming,
The dapple that weaves
Across the brown water
That murmurs and spills
Through the grey stones forever
Among the green hill?

D.M.P. ©

A Galloway Burn in June

 

 

Brown burn water dropping

Between the grey stones,

The lapse and the murmur,

The bright overtones

Of cuckoo and curlew

And faraway trill

Of a lark; great blue shadows

Stride over the hill:

Breeze and bird-call are blended

With murmur of bees;

Sun and wind stroke the grasses

And finger the trees.

Is it sunlight or greenlight?

This shimmer of leaves;

Is it seeing or dreaming,

The dapple that weaves

Across the brown water

That murmurs and spills

Through the grey stones forever

Among the green hill?

 

D.M.P. ©