There’s a change in the air north of the border…
Scots with their bairns and burns
bagpipes and Bal-moral high ground
Trossocs and Gorbles,
Highlands and borders,
Lochs and tartan socks
Bannocks and butter scotch
Kilted and sporraned.
Hot Toddy and Cock-a-Leekie,
are striving to define their identity.
The Common thistle, a ragged outcast
Lately topped with fiercesome barbs
Like spiny jagged bayonets
Warning off soft-lipped herbivores,
favouring frenzied visitations
by gangs of goldfinches after seed
And fluttering spotted fritillaries
To gorge on sweet nectar
Held in a crowning purple coronet,
symbol of a nation that might yet regret.
On any wild uncultivated waste land
Thistles alone and en-mass proudly stand
To release and broadcast millions of seed
On a changeable autumn wind.
To carry the future in downy parachutes
To spread word as if to ballot a nation.
Those who know and those yet to decide
If the time is right
for this resourceful escapee
to become a Nation, Scot and free
Scotland Decides 18 September 2014