The old stone kirk
At the end of the street
Tolls four minutes to the hour
And I, sleepless,
Turn over and tuck
My back to the wall,
Knees to my chest,
Warm and snug as a child
In her Father’s arms
(Aren’t we all?)
Maybe, like the old kirk bell
I’m out of time
(Aren’t we all?)
All I know, as I blink into the black
Is this:
I’d rather be out of sync
With the rhythms of this world
Bemuse a few people
By not keeping time
If it means I still follow the beat
(heartbeat, heartbeat)
of the conductor
I lie awake
While the world lies sleeping
(Those who are awake
While the world lies in darkness)
And the old stone kirk
At the end of the street
Tolls four minutes to
(Know the bell means this:
The hour is coming)
written 3am, October 2nd 2023
Old Deer, Scotland