a wee dram then a dousin’


After a well manneredly morning of service at the Church of Scotland on the Isle of Gigha off the Kintyre Peninsula, the local historian (and relative to practically everyone living here) Alasdair Mc whose family has lived here “a thousand years” invited me back to his farm (circa 1750ish) for a look at the parish records to find my ancestors here.


They abound . . . it was such fun, the BEST of travel.  (I am such a cheap date.)


His wife set us up with a wee dram and I wish I had another right now because the weather has turned blustery cold today.


The ferry back to the mainland ‘ll be sloshin’ and it’ll be awhile before I feel the warmth of yesterday.


There are many ways Scotland has to warm ye.


when she woke up


sleeping beauty

when she woke up
she was terrible.
under his mouth her mouth
turned red and warm
then almost crimson as the coals
smothered and forgotten
in the grate.
she had been gone so long.
there was much to unlearn.
she opened her eyes.
he was the first thing she saw
and she blamed him.

— lucille clifton (from Blessing the Boats)

over the words

In the morning when the light falls like water

Over the words

Bless me and hear my calling

Over the words

Open my throat and untie the hard not

Over the words

Save me when I am deep in the well enough

When I am drowning in the desert

When I am diving in the dumpster

When I am mothing too close to the fire

When I falter when I fall into the water

over the words

~ Liana © 8/15

sun setting

photo: K. Strejc Ginn





If you come up short on blessings
consider wealth your spendthrift
grandfather could not plunder. Consider
plunder. Plunge and thunder exactly
matched. Spendthrift exactly.

We are beholden, I tell you, for a word
like beholden. Heft and vintage.
Riches we did not earn cannot exhaust
fraught with inklings. No way
to put on the kibosh, origin unknown.

If you think this far-fetched think
of far-fetched. Charm and chime enough
to sabotage the taciturn send them
skylarking. Downloads notwithstanding
technology hasn’t the wherewithal.

Plethora of blessings. Whatnots
whose whereabouts never forsake.
Your sake mine. Ardent emanations
for the taking tasting toasting.
Giving thanks for the whole shebang.

~ K. Anderson, Blessings