Today I have added “Clathic Chorister”, a poem about a Blackbird.

This bird, including his forebears and progeny, have been singing from this same pine tree for thirty years of more, Rita tell’s me. She own’s his garden.

He was chiming his song as I passed below this morning.

And then there is “Glasgow Fair, 1963”.

This is another Glasgow Shipyard tale and if you cannot abide vernacular dialogue and detest swear words, give it a miss.