ANGUS MACMILLAN was born in Lewis and has spent most of his working life, as a psychologist, in Dumfries & Galloway. He writes mostly poetry in English and in his first language, Gaelic. His writing has been published across a range of magazines, anthologies, in Life Lines, a collection of poetry, and in stonework, a poetry and photography collaboration with Derek Ross. He is a co-editor of the literary magazine Southlight.
Here he reads a poem about a close encounter with the Moon, a symbol of renewal but in these lines a stark ambush by the past and a diversion from the troubled present.
Driving to the Moon
by Angus Macmillan
I drove slowly that evening, unsure
what I was leaving, and what I was going to,
numbed by the half-light, on automatic pilot.
I rounded a corner, and there, like a plate
on my granny’s dresser, a full harvest moon.
I’d seen many of these, but this one took me back
to nights of accordions and dances at the crossroads,
late Septembers. It was larger, closer, touchable,
as if waiting for me. The road disappeared –
no diversions or lay-bys here, no way back,
no gravity, just a drift of music over the turning heather.
I drove on, looking for signs –
for the Sea of Tranquillity or the Sea of Serenity
or, failing that, the Lake of Forgetfulness.
© Angus Macmillan, March 2021
A Link to Poll Madaidh: Poems and Exhibition
Gallery Archive: Poll Madaidh | catstrand-website
Big Bang's Star Poets series is curated by Hugh McMillan