Quaecumque scripta sunt, ad nostram doctrinam scripta sunt…
Well north of Inverness, the Alness river
Elucidates the ways that sunshine reads
Its rippled, stippled deeps – its sweeter water
Reveals the signature of nestled tides.
More shine than burn, this flowing fire makes the Dalmore
Describe the double candle wicks that flicker
This Advent’s second Sunday, the eighth campaign
To rise and set by spinning clock’s design.
In opposition, strategies of darkness
And tactics nothingness would legislate
Become the tomes of sinfulness and cite
Our sentences of death. But mercy works less
To ratify such pacts of blood deferred:
It cribs our meaning in its cradled word.
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