Pim Claridge

Life in the Scottish Borders, one stanza at a time


A girl, with eyes ten fathoms deep...
and clouds about her feet
waits, as the reddened sun drops
behind tall reeds along the rivers edge,
painting crimson streaks on muddy water
as the Ibis flies to meet the night.

In the distance, sand is cooling
beyond temples in the valley,
where crafted gold lies undisturbed,
grit-stitched with dust and sand
and buried deep in ancient tombs
where paintings on the walls
bear witness to your history.

And, through all these years
those narrow, slant-sailed boats
ply the inland waterways,
cargoed with your future.
Along low banks, browsing in the green
are buffalo, watched over by a boy
who inhabits dreams, fingered
by harmonics of a new, earth life.

But you cannot answer, yet,
only smile and wait,
with clouds around your feet
until perhaps another time,
a closer, kinder time,
when you would come again...

High Priestess
With eyes ten fathoms deep!