Scotland’s Pleistocene and Little Ice Age Glaciers Were Just as Pitiless
Despite the lochs our words were drowned unheard.
Despite the village on the Pentland hill,
Our words of love were lost. Long decades shirred
Our love and words, and crinkled them to kill
Our chance. The lochs did not provide the way
For forward love. Our love itself could not.
The boring facts of life would not obey
Our hearts, not strongest hearts. Both Should and Ought
Were crushing as the basalt rock above
The cottages and little wood, and we,
We two had only gorgeous, foreign love
Despite our finding serendipity.
We had not known that Edinburgh heights
For us would come and so we lost our nights.
~ Phillip Whidden
by phillipw | Feb 18, 2025 | Uncategorized |