by Sandy Laird

We walked the road
Mile after mile, rising :
Every moment he, darting up the flanks
Louped runnels, scanned rivulets for gold.

We raised a hare,
It went like surging air against the hill
Stroking grass easy as the wind.
We lost him when he stopped
And became a turf.

As we climbed the burns chattering fell silent
It’s gravelled base skinkled through the crystal
Like a broad whang strewn and traikit.

Seeing the reservoir he ran to its edge,
I saw its brown trout back ripple
A colour change as he pitched those stones.
Before we left, looking back
We saw it mirror the sky;
Two birds swam there.

© Sandy Laird

Sandy Laird is a member of Biggar Writers' Group and he is also a member of Clyde Valley Writers. You can see another example of Sandy's work in our November 2004 Showcase.