Roddy Lumsden died in January this year, tragically young. He was a quirky poet, born and brought up in the working class part of St Andrews although he did not see himself, particularly, as a Scottish poet. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/roddy-lumsden
This article in the Scotsman from 2009 offers the unusual scene of a poet working on a fashion shoot with Kate Moss. https://www.scotsman.com/arts-and-culture/roddy-lumsden-interview-poetry-kate-and-me-2444064
Intriguing but not particularly seasonal. However, I loved his poem, The Season of Quite with it’s genteel ladies plotting events that seem to be more gossip and the nuances of words than any actual activities. The gentility and the golfing reference makes me wonder if it is based on his native St Andrews? In any event it is worth reading for the line: Half-promised rain roosts in some clouds a mile out,” if you ask me. Rain “roosting” in clouds, just perfect!
Season of Quite
With refreshments and some modesty and home-drawn maps,
the ladies of the parish are marshaling the plans in hand,
devising the occasions, in softest pencil: the Day of Hearsay,
Leeway Week, the Maybe Pageant, a hustings on the word
nearby. Half-promised rain roosts in some clouds a mile out,
gradual weather making gradual notes on the green, the well,
the monument, the mayor’s yard where dogs purr on elastic.
Everything taken by the smooth handle then, or about to be,
hiatus sharp in humble fashion. A small boy spins one wheel
of an upturned bike, the pond rises, full of skimmed stones
on somehow days, not Spring, not Summer yet. Engagements
are announced in the Chronicle, a nine-yard putt falls short.
Dark cattle amble on the angles of Flat Field. The ladies close
their plotting books and fill pink teacups, there or thereabouts.
Prompts: “Seasonal” offers lots of scope. You could write about this season, as Autumn turns to winter – about the contrasting seasons. Or you could go Biblical with Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
3 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
2 A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
3 A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4 A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5 A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
7 A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8 A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
Well, I am not so sure about the hate and war bit but the basic message is sound: there are times when we should speak out and times when it is much better to hold our tongues…
But this isn’t one of them!
It’s time to write.