Short stories are where it all began. I wrote my first, The Snow Goose, in 2006 and this has led to everything else emanating out of the far north of Scotland. Here’s one small example:
Coast of Children
Nova Scotia, a coloured collar of wooden dwellings
wraps Tomcod ground, new life reborn amid
chequered religious patchworks, home from home
for virgin forester kin who toiled and sweated American
dreams on another grey mist coast where surging tides
swarm through Fundy’s Bay, pushing trees skyward,
offerings for the ribs of Dartmouth whalers heavy
hewn by the sons and daughters of Caithness, Alba
where all turn to see the half wheel of geese flying
west like arrows, the onward urge. Yet, on special days
they gather to remember a foreign land, distant and close