It’s no sae high
compared tae the bens o the Hielands
no a Graham, Corbett or Munro.
But wi yon panorama o airth and sky
set oot afore ye
it’s easy tae believe ye’ve come
nearer eternity
and that the seelent congregation wi ye
on the paith are the speerits
o aw the fowk that iver hiked up here
and them whase ashes – if yer fancy
turns this wey – hae been scaitered
tae the wind. And it occurs tae ye
that yer ghaist wuid like it fine here
wi sicht o Solway strands and Lakeland fells
and haein Knockendoch and Screel
as feres, guid neebours.
Freed frae yer flesh ye’d spreid yersel
like a sail, aw nicht stravaigin
ower the lenth and braidth o Gallowa,
retournin at first licht as a wraith-bodie
to bask in the sun like an edder
inveesible to them that come wi their pieces
and crips and lemonade
but soondin lood enough in their inner lug,
tellin them the rules:
that they’re alloued tae tak a gliff o beauty
hame in their rucksack
but maun leave naethin ahin
excep for a wee chuckie stane o themsels
drappin lichtly, unseen
ontae the cairn.
Lead image: Criffel Hill from the saltmarsh and reedbed of Caerlaverock nature reserve by the Solway Firth, Scotland © Duncan Shaw