Haar spectres from the Binn village
hiding on the hill.
Awake on dead lava
Helter Skelter of their inner ashes.
climbing, descending, and swirling around the town.
Scalloped edges of the seasons
not knowing those
from here or from there
only before the Shows come and afterwards.
Memories circling the Links grass
with fairy rings
danced through by dogs, chased by wondering children/
in the shelter of the Binn.
The smelter of town talk
incomers old and new
building lives on the red metal dust.
Manipulated particles of nature now reformed
aluminium long rigid: red ash giving amber qualities
hot moments captured
cooled like their tales.
All the while the Black Rock watches the boats pass over
waiting to see if the wreck ever rises to meet them and glow.
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