DNA
by Kitty Boots
The undiluted blood of a thousand couplings runs through my veins,
the Curse of the MacCrimmon's passed to my son.
The stones here are not unlike those of Barra,
birthed from the same crust, tumbled in a different sea.
They sing as I build cairns under ancient trees.
the Curse of the MacCrimmon's passed to my son.
The stones here are not unlike those of Barra,
birthed from the same crust, tumbled in a different sea.
They sing as I build cairns under ancient trees.
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Author's Note
An attraction to rocks, trees and a bit of genetics.
Other stories by Kitty Boots
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Ah seadh, agus pìosan cànan àlainn! ***
*You, too, sing.
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Thank you, Matt, Nonnie and Bill.
I shudder to think what corrupted "blood" plumps up my veins.
He, he...you might be surprised!
Spare and beautiful.*
Sense of place shines through well. *
I'm a scot. Usually when Scots write poetry about being Scottish it is usually self-consciously half-apologetically sentimental.
I like this one, especially it's last line.
Thank you, Charlotte and Samuel.
Very cool piece. OUCH on "the Curse of the MacCrimmon's"!
*
Thank you, Ed and Sam.
i like it
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Thank you, Gary.
Good one
Thank you, Larry.