86/100 Congregate ghosts

‘What happened here?  

 Congregate ghosts, among the weathered and cracked stones.  

 Take my mouth, speak.

[from Four kinds of poet, 3, George Mackay Brown, ‘Travellers’]

73/100 red seepings of sunset

 In the first red seepings of sunset.

In the village windows, that twilight,

tinsel stars glittered.

[from ‘Yule’, George Mackay Brown, from 'Selected Poems 1954-1992']