Sea Buckthorn
Sauté an' cruel winds tae shear it, [salt]
Nichts o' haar an' rain - [nights of cold mist]
Ye micht think the sallow buckthorn [might]
Ne'er a hairst could hain; [never a harvest could harbour]
But amang the sea-bleached branches [among]
Ashen-grey as pain,
Thornset orange berries cluster
Flamin', beauty-fain.
Daith an' dule will stab ye surely, [death and dolour / grief]
Be ye man or wife,
Mony trauchles an' mischances [many struggles / troubles]
In ilk weird are rife; [in everyone's fate]
Bide the storm ye canna hinder,[cannot]
Mindin' through the strife, [remembering]
Hoo the luntin' lowe o' beauty [how the blazing fire of beauty]
Lichts the grey o' life. [lights]
Helen Cruickshank
Copyright is held by A C Hunter, Ashgrove House, Loanhead, Midlothian, Scotland EH20 9NG http://herbology-101.blogspot.co.uk/2010/11/weekend-rambles.html Photo at North Berwick golf club, Scotland.
posted by johnthebarman at 6:25 pm
2 Comments:
Hi John,
Lovely poem - thank you! The sea buckthorn was prolific this year and still adorns the edges of the sand dunes along this coast. I made some sea buckthorn gin - but it's too bitter to drink. However it led me to a patch of beautiful wild roses and so concocted a lovely syrup.I have started a new blog on the seaweeds I find around NB if you want more images of this coastline www.tangandware.com
Sara
Superb photo of the buckthorn, John. Dick's mother did typing for Helen Cruickshank in her later years. We took the pair of them for a drive once, 1969 I think.
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