Just around the corner, with Norman MacCaig

With the trout season just around the corner, things are looking decidedly up. On some rivers and lochs people are already out and fishing.

Personally, I tend to view the trout season as starting for real on the 1st of April. I’m busy getting flies tied, sorting out all the bits and bobs and making plans for the first day. It’s got to be the most exciting time of the year, with everything ahead and to be discovered again.

So, as a welcome to the new season, how about a bit of quality Norman MacCaig poetry to stir the blood?

Loch Sionascaig

Hard to remember how the water went
Shaking the light,
Until it shook like peas in a riddling plate.

Or how the islands snored into the wind,
Or seemed to, round
Stiff, plunging headlands that they never cleared.

Or how a trout hung high its drizzling bow
For a count of three –
Heraldic figure on a shield of spray.

Yet clear the footprint in the puddled sand
That slowly filled
And rounded out and smoothed and disappeared