The Creel

在网上旅行时发现的诗。liverpool的地铁，Scottish women's poem.

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The Creel

The world began with a woman,
shawl-happed, stooped under a creel,
whose slow step you recognise
from troubled dreams. You feel

obliged to help bear her burden
from hill or kelp-strewn shore,
but she passes by unseeing
thirled to her private chore.

It’s not sea-birds or peat she’s carrying
not fleece, nor the herring bright
but her fear that if ever she put it down
the world would go out like a light.