Monday, January 01, 2007


Circle of light and darkness, be our sign.
We move in shadows,
Brodgar has burned on the moor a dance of sun.

Ring of quern and plough, contain
Our tumults of blood.
The stars' chaos is caught in a strict rein.

Wheel of life and death, remove
The sweet warm breath.
Ingibiorg flowers in stone, all beauty and love.

Round of sun and snow and seed,
Out of those skulls
Breaks the first green shoot, the full ear, then the bread.

George Mackay Brown (1921-1996)

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