Poem for the day

It's Cowal Games time. I am sitting with the study window closed against the sound of pipes drifting down from the park; it's been three years or more since the bands stopped marching up Argyll Street in full blast and the relative peace is welcome, living where I do in earshot of the road. The promenade parking, I can see, is already a solid line of camper vans and buses. But last night, well after midnight, I saw some (presumably) young people walk past our house - one on its own, and three on the other side of the road, laughing. The solitary one, however, had a phone, working - I could see the green glow from the screen - and it struck me how the use of a phone is the new cover for solitude. Like Ophelia's book - remember? Colouring her alone-ness.

Anyway, feeling just a little like Edwin Morgan's "accursed observer", I wrote a poem. You can read it here.