The Scapa Flow Landscape Partnership Scheme

The Hawk

On Sunday the hawk fell on Bigging

And a chicken screamed

Lost in its own little snowstorm.

And on Monday he fell n the moor

And the Field Club

Raised in a hundred silent prisms.

And on Tuesday he fell on the hill

And the happy lamb

Never knew why the loud collie straddled him.

And on Wednesday he fell on a bush

And the blackbird

Laid by his little flute for the last time.

And on Thursday he fell on Cleat

And peerie Tom’s rabbit

Swung in a single arc from shore to hill.

And on Friday he fell on a ditch

But the questing cat,

That rival, rampant, fluttered his flame.

And on Saturday he fell on Bigging

And Jock lowered his gun

And nailed a small wing over the corn.


George Mackay Brown

Selected Poems 1954 – 1983