When the licht lay low on fields
I’d tae staund richt near tae count yer segments
each wan sae ticht wrapped
it looked like it was haudin oan tae the dark
as if tae say no yet
no yet

That same licht wid stay tae guide the moon
tae tak its place tae mornin came
when it wid dae the same again

Saein tae ony brave enough tae search
that it ae believed they’d draw the strength tae blossom
if they only sensed when hints o warmth and tiny rebirths
greeted mair than gorse petals opening
in the gloom o a January morning.