The unchanging moor, but heeds season’s call To don her different well-coloured weeds, My heart is cold, left lonely; waterfall And bright babbling brook, pretend their proceeds Quell the vast sorrows of this tranquil scene, I feel unsure; their songs, certainly sweet, Are not for me alone, my wise world, lean, Licentious, and bear-hungry, may yet cheat A mind trolling memories of childhood Seeking honesty instead of light lies Sculpted to suit a man misunderstood; Such is the bard’s fate, much to his surprise. Upset? It matters not, moss-covered stones Suck at water droplets, eager for their Life-giving properties; Nature hones Her cunning ways, cites rainbows, in prayer: I think, just a trick of refracted light, Light dancing off water, and deceiving Just when I need consolation’s slight Kiss; just enough to convince that grieving, Save for the broken heart of a lover, May well be a good cure for all that ails Dethroned desperados; love, left over In a heaving heart, often-times prevails. © Sam Gilliland. 5/2/18. Residing in Scotland, Sam Gilliland is a champion of Lallans (the Scottish language) poetry and a recipient of Sangschaw’s prestigious MacDiarmid Tassie. With three previous collections of poetry published his work in Scots includes A Rickle O Banes (Penny Wheep Press). Founder/Secretary of Ayrshire Writers & Artists Society the organisation became the home of The Scottish International Open Poetry Competition, to which he devoted twenty eight years of his life as co-administrator and judge.