Praisents breed aneath an artifeecial tree;
bouk mair worth nor thocht
or time.
 
Nae time noo - fur ye’re nae langer here.
Nae instant fix o comfort an joy
fur me this year -
jist caul turkey
follaed by mince pies an sighs.
 
While white berries glister thir tears
fur the missed kisses o mistletoe,
the faimlie’s conscience pricks an jags
in a hushle o holly.
Thir dutiful deeds thrapple
lik ivy.
 
Ah’m circled by wreaths
douth as depression,
excep fur rid-berried guilt,
bricht as lowes o Hell
amang the glaizie green leaves.
 
Crack is wrapped cannie lik
in glib messages o guidwill:
tishie-thin an easy torn,
nowt but the Sellotape® o guid intentions
hauds it thegither.
 
Ah’m sae caul.
Alane,
yet aye surroundet;
a fitprint in slawly meltin snaw.

-Rowena M. Love- 

For our seasonal poem, we have a gem from Rowena M. Love, who tells me it is one of her favourite pieces. It was first published in Lallans in 2008. She also has a version in English (she now lives down south) and when I admired her English version, she volunteered the Scots poem. I prefer it in Scots, with its sensitive personal observations and sense of compassion. It comes with good wishes for all the festivities.