Northwords Now

New writing, fresh from Scotland and the wider North
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by Kenneth Steven

The strangeness of that sudden rumble
coming from nowhere yesterday late.
I ran out and stood watching
the faraway threatening skies,
but around us an eerie brightness –
the stillness that comes before the storm.
The first flicker – a blink of silver,
seconds later the answering thunder.
I went in and watched from the window,
looked out and into the distance –
the lochan like a light blue stone
brooched in the tweed of the moorland.
The swans in the mirrored water,
so impossibly white to the eyes –
like the remains of snow after winter,
carvings that dipped and bent;
together yet ever themselves –
heads stretching into the west,
into the rain that came from the silence,
the veil that swallowed the day.

The Board and Editor of Northwords Now acknowledge support from Creative Scotland and Bòrd na Gàidhlig.
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