In the fields earth mounded in rows, neatly parted, comb down to the sea. Over the stile all is green with spring unburrowing now winter has retreated. Green and green and pink where rock shoulders through, all elbows and shins and ankle boned. And here a giant stone arch, we walk under an armpit. Gorse perfume drifts up to the song of the skylark, falling back down as silver stars for gannets in an upside down sky.
Crinan Lock.
The house in the field.
Green shoes, crabs and cannoli, a walk at the Bay.
A walk with you.
To Millport.
I bought an old spotty red mug from the charity shop in Millport.
Driving West.
Puffer.
Clyde Puffer.
For artist George Wyllie .
I see the Puffer sailing on a sixties carpet next to the skirting board and a three pin socket peering over the deck in Bill and Doreen’s hallway. Crouching down it seems to grin back at me like a small boy bursting with his dreams of life to come and for the joke he just told.- Thank you George.
Drumcarrow Hill.
Start of rehearsals for upcoming performance with Rebecca Sharp on Drumcarrow Hill this week, with horses 🙂 !
dominique cameron RSW 