Gavin, it’s a beautiful winter’s day –
East coast, clear and bright. Let’s leave it there,
rinsed of all metaphors. Instead, let’s take a novel
for a walk – a good long, meandering walk.

Let the novel be contemporary, Scottish,
and let’s love it; let’s love its good writing,
before we even begin to discuss whatever
it is that makes it so. This is buoying us up

and, with each step, we’re joined by others,
sharing in your generosity and insight. And you’re
leaning into your laugh now – that splutter
of delight – as you dance over the pages

filling them with possibility and light. Gavin,
love gives us flight. Let’s all of us
take off, fly over the blue dashing Forth.
Let’s circle Fife – its harbours, its gentle fields,

its friendly, sociable commute. It’s late, Gavin.
We love you, Gavin. But we’re losing height.
One last hug; one final, fulsome kiss, cheek to cheek.
And we head for home, each of us diminished.

- Tom Pow -