Gress o the Forest

The wind gaes reeshlin through the gress

Till a wheesht comes at the stillin o the air:

Quaeit gies a sough, mair a glisk nor a soond.

unpublished poem, © Valerie Gillies 2017, used by permission of the author

Valerie Gillies

Valerie Gillies’ poems are of a startling clarity. The precision of thought and image that coalesce in her vivid and occasionally ...

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Themes

Language Weather

Glossary

Dialect Short

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