Brimstone and polish ...

Dog roses lined the narrow road up from the burn - 

Grey monuments filled the kirkyard - farmers and portioners lay beneath the turf - 

We saw their names, carved with tender letters into the hard stone - 

Inside the kirk, we saw the laird's loft - here the Kerrs would sit, behind the proud coat of arms, gazing down at the congregation - 

I sat on a bench under the loft - 

Alyson read aloud the verse above my head - 

Behold the axe at the tree root, to hew doune that which brings not forth good fruit - when they are cut down, the Lord into the fire will them destroy -

I shivered, smelling brimstone as well as sweet scented polish - 

Thursday 2 July 2015

Bowden Kirk

The Scottish Borders