Poetry Map of Scotland, poem no. 232: Easdale

Unearthing Easdale

Men toiled to keep rain out.
Black slate split from unyielding ground.
Working for fools in the promise of gold,
to keep their own safe from Atlantic cold.

Left toothless,
Your slate is clean.
Now silenced by the sound
Of a Duchess and Countess *
Marking time.
Waiting by a hearth-stone
For their history to unfold.


Hazel Buchan Cameron

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