Veeve
Da wirld, shrukken tae window-peen, hadds hits braeth. A moarnin scene wi licht - döless an dour - drittlin trowe syer-cloots afore waarmin peerie-wyes tae opalled scumble.
But, nose tae gless, a caald fumble, a eence apön a time sense, blurry an frostit; a inner wirld o nae paes, an half-haertit. Mindin on flukkra-globes we’d shack, waitin fur da snaa ta settle back.
Still spellboond an stumsed, an foo o hoop fur wir aert med new, we stotter on; laek glinderin at dat sphere comin at slowly, till veeve an crystal clear.
The world, shrunk to a window-pane, holds its breath. A morning scene with light - listless and dour - seeps through a muslin cloud before warming gently to opalled scumble.
But, nose to glass, a cold fumble, a once upon a time sense, blurry and frosted; an inner world lacking peace, and half-hearted. Remembering snow-filled globes we’d shake, waiting for the flakes to settle back.
Still spellbound, bewildered, and full of hope for our earth made new, we stumble on; like peering at that sphere unveiling slowly, till vivid and crystal clear.
Christine De Luca, Mariscat Press, 2021
Reviews
- "She is very good at evoking places too, often with telling imagery."Sheenagh Pugh, The New Shetlander, No 292, Yule Issue 2021
- "...a bilingual and lyrical foray into life, the universe and everything."Anne MacLeod, Northwords Now, Issue 42
- "We are swept into De Luca's world of musical language and clear-eyed observation"Anne MacLeod, Northwords Now - Issue 42, Autumn-Winter 2021