Names

I stared long at that nameless hill
But because tyres on the rented
Vauxhall were thin, and because
An American, I am afraid in 
Someway to walk where I will,
I simply stared longer while heavy-headed 
Barley senselessly swayed.

Burn of my name, eponymous wood
Do you remember us still, gone so 
Many days?
Nameless hill calling my names – 
Lowland git gathered across seas, 
Green-hilled Galloway’s thorny brae,
Names off the sgurran fo cheo
Seeping in around the edges, hinting
Of duthchas, duine, dualchas.

Fading in WalMart parking lots
In a desert place a mile above the sea
Names that call back to hill and muir
Names calling my names.

Author: Duncan MacNae

Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees. duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com View all posts by Duncan MacNae