Loch Awe, by Lesley Benzie
Wigtown Scots Poetry Prize Winner
Loch Awe
We twa
took tae the langest loch in Scotland
in a sma, ill-equipped hire boat.
Five bairns in oor care, anely twa cuid sweem,
an ma close freen, traversin its crannogs, sun-rays refractin
through its surface tae far the mythical kelpies hid,
an dazzlin watter sprites flirted wi the ripplin loch’s
notoriously fickle netter, wi its waves an gusts capable
o embattlin the blissfully unaware tae early wattery graves.
Captivated bi the ivy happit castle ruins,
almost lost tae time, on the loch’s Innis Chonnel Island,
forby we felt the turn o ghosts
fae the ancient Celtic burial grun o Inishail,
Ben Cruachan’s broodin shaddas amassed
fear for the propeller sheer, ah urged ye again,
‘dinna steer sae near the shallas’
Tae remind me fa held the tiller, ye veered closer still.
Thick haar’s sudden swirlin, the licht fast dimmin.
As if, a barometer fur the temperature chillin, ae bairn shrieked,
the ithers quailed as an ancient beardy fishermin appeared.
A shroudit phantom at first, then a beacon o temporary repair
steerin oor safe passage back tae shore, far
we twa
wuid go on tae mak o oorsels ancient history.