It’s November, a feral night and damply furtive. Scent of viburnum masks the fox’s stink. The pond is primordial its soundscape reptilian. Beams joust, lances tilt. If we weren’t wildly in love already we would have head-longed into the moment….

… ee day he fills your window wi shaeps o laands at you could mak your ain: islands beyond islands, draemscapes you could aa but map: a refrain o licht troo a peen o gless; incongruities, tizin places you’ll nivver…

I could blame da wye da sea is smoothed da steyns; da sylk o touch, da waelin, laevin; an will da haert be dere whin I come back? Or I could blame da saandiloo. He wis clear whit wye ta…

No one will ever know where the seams are where you begin where I end. I tize oot dy reffels, redd an caird dee, caa mi wheel an spin dee, set dy rowers mirlin till dat unbrokken treed, dy voice,…

  It wasn’t his wooden paling nor the stone latticework set to break the wind, nor the heather he stuffed between fences; nor the seaweed he tore from the foreshore and turned and turned, nor his fingers breaking clods; nor…

If and when I have mislaid my name and stare at you disconcertingly let me spend a day parked by Suilven, perplexed by broken water. Turn my calendar to the mountain’s season, and set my watch by shadows on the…

You are daunting, Vulcan, towering above me. Art shows magnificence well within your grasp as with your gammy leg and platform heels you stride the shining hall, hammer in hand. We could do with you in goal for Scotland: 4…