Poem: ‘Shiochie’s Hill, Dunkeld’
John Burnside, 31 October 1996
I want to begin again, climbing through beech roots and gulls to the hill of the fairies,
to nest with the rooks, to sleep amongst broken yews, to crouch in the dark of the ice house, close to the stone;
I’ll come after dark and feel the wet drift of their bodies, they’ll share me with the foxes and the deer,
or borrow my human warmth to weave a caul for the child they have stolen
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