When it rained glass in Lerwick
Glass is falling from the sky
and like a particularly determined pigeon,
it is finding its way to land on
windscreens and wing mirrors.
It is volcanic too, and I wonder
if that means it will bend its less mobile
siblings into intriguing new shapes;
or at least leave better-than-average pockmarks.
I’m sure the humble worker glass,
all functional transparency and straight edges,
longs to be blown and stained, so it too
can be a vessel for rapture.
I mean, who wants to be seen through
when you can be adored.
For instructions on how to submit your own poems, click here
All poems from our Poetry Map of Scotland are subject to copyright and should not be reproduced otherwise without the poet's permission.