Word Festival 05 [Scotland]:
Launched by Kathleen JamieThe Creel
The world began with a woman,
shawl-happed, stooped under a creel
whose slow step you recognise
from troubled dreams. You feel
Obliged to help bear her burden
from hill or kelp-strewn shore,
but she passes by unseeing
thirled to her private chore.
It's not sea-birds or peat that she's carrying
not fleece, nor the herring bright
but her fear that if she ever put it down
the world would go out like a light.
This entry was posted by Ivy
on Tuesday, March 15, 2005 at 3:42 PM.
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