Haiku ~ three

On the old apple
blossom, crispy petals bloom
into white butterflies.

Amanda~Louise Gilmour © 2020

Dawn

Dawn's ghostly whisper,
dappled with rose-gold hues, seeps
into inky skies.

by Amanda Gilmour

Sunset

Atlantic waves slice
the sun in half, a semi-
circle melting.

by Amanda Gilmour

Amber

Oriental lily
stains the wings
of a white butterfly,
amber.

Drumochter

Stars fall over
the pass of
Drumochter,
smudged grey as always,
barren, desolate ‒
a world dropped dead
into Dante’s Ninth.
 
By the old railway,
I cradle your urn,
twisting the lid,
scattering ashes that
return on a
wet wind wave,
blinding me.
 
As your particles
speckle the
yawning hills,
my soul blinks
behind gritted lids.

Amanda-Louise Gilmour
 

Mill burn

Beneath susurrus snowflakes
by lilting Mill burn,
his going spawned silk rivulets
glissading over wrist bone;
echoing in pearly scars
over crimson flowing vein,
a gossamer reminder
of his whispered nasal hymn.
Narnia embellished summer
dresses hidden silvered skin,
beneath susurrus snowflakes
by lilting Mill burn.

Amanda-Louise Gilmour

The Gloaming

The Gloaming

From thrawn skeleton,
a cloud of pink petals
sigh from the old gean
in the glen beyond the wall,
where birds sing and deer roam,
while rivulets of glassy burn
pass through in lilting lullaby
carrying fallen blooms
from the natural world
in a trail of confetti,
meandering into 
the gloaming mouth 
of the firth.

Amanda Gilmour

Unborn

Unborn

What would you wish for
as you blew out twelve candles,
my unborn seedling.

Amanda Gilmour