RAB Wilson reaches out for the dawn in his prize-winning entry from 2012’s McCash Scots Poetry Competition. It serves as a final reminder that this year’s competition entries must be in by tomorrow.

RAXIN FIR THE DAWIN

Ae nicht, i the back o the year wis brucken,

Ah stuid an watcht the striatit lift,

An felt as ah’d bin gien some eldritch gift,

Some keen insicht that micht betoken

Whit aa the starns abune wis tryin tae say;

The Muckle Dipper, syne ower a bit the wee,

Constellations clash tae bear the gree;

Bricht clusters birl intae infinity –

Cassiopeia, Crux, Chamaeleon. . .

Whan aa at aince, cam flashin oot the nicht,

No ane, but twae! Naw, three! gleg blinterin lichts,

Tractors: silage rigs wi trailers oan –

An aa at aince jaloused whaur we wir gaun;

As human-kind aye raxin fir the dawin.