STORYTELLING
We raised from the moor
dark slabs of peat
lifted from the depths
with our soiled hands and feet
Hard and fast upon the tusker
before laying each to dry
flat upon the heather,
allowing wind and sky
To perform their part
in our labours;
placing them too in stacks
beside which our neighbours
Gathered to assist us
take the fuel back home.
Later, we’d scatter scraps of turf
on fires these nights we sat alone
And listened to the tales they told
as that glow whispered of the days
when men walked far on moorland,
words transformed into a murmur
that sparked and flamed within each blaze.
Donald S Murray, Shetland
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