Unravelling Kintyre Goats
Opportunists came, lured by lucre in
their hair. They tried to steal their feral jumps
from scree by Largybaan’s lost homes
from heather plugged Davaar, from their munch
pungent at the Gauldrons’ ransomed slopes. Thank
God, men’s greed was driven out – past ruined Keil,
past Blaan’s kirk, by Kilchrist, over the Laggan’s moss,
right up near the Westport spume – where we travelled, Jack.
Heads down for many meetings. Nipped
through all the politics, your tell reverberates – how
your snowdrops flowered, on Ne’erday
in Southend. Greyed by this North Sea air,
I miss all your strongheaded truth.
May it keep you safe in this, my Friend.
Copyright © Beth McDonough 2016
Beth McDonough writes, forages and swims near Dundee. Handfast, her pamphlet in collaboration with Ruth Aylett was published by Mothers’ Milk books in May. It explores her experience of her son’s autism and Aylett’s of her parents’ dementia.