Of Seiche and Loch Earn
I swim across, past Edinample’s crannog, then
return, sense a drift that needs corrected. Perhaps
the burn that enters from Glen Ogle gives
some subtle push of limbs.
I learn about the seiche –
here, it patterns sixteen hour long sways,
tuned-in with winds,
has freshwater move like tides.
On All Saints’ Day, in 1755, Lisbon’s earthquake
brought her whole Cathedral down, killed thousands, axed a country’s hopes.
In distant Scottish lochs like this,
seismic seiches were observed.
1914, in Sarajevo, one Archduke lost his life,
and still we souls, who tenant footholds
in our shared world watch,
wonder, fearful, in this geometry, see
oscillations rock in Palestine.
Beth McDonough has a background in Silversmithing, and continues to work in mixed media. She often writes on the subject of a maternal experience of disability, and finds poems walking, foraging and swimming in Scotland’s cold waters.