Poetry

Fern
Here, deep in a cave dark,
lacking air,a fern grows.

Fed by the smallest drip
seeping from lead slate

it's flourished.
See its glossy leaves shine.

Watch the water caught
in the camera's quick lens,

green fronds outstretched like palms.

That life can spore
and grow in such frail light!

Celebrate the shadows,
for fresh starts can fall out of them.

Around us, unseen,
nothing need be truly lost.

Slowly,much is possible,
even from darkness. 

.. from Burning Whins

Exile

Wi’oot leavin yer ain lan
ye can still be an exile
wha watches the lies o
the lan, the leid
aw taen fae within.

A sleekit kinna wey
o kiddin ye wi
veneers o democracy.

At least here in Prague
it was clear that
oppressors wir in.
An ye kent fir sure
when they left.

.. from Stravaigin