Two Winter Vignettes: 2016



The waiter goes outside
for a cigarette —
gently puff puffing smoke
into the November cold.

Tonight when I walk home,
the leisure of a Sunday in my pace,
I’ll breathe it into my lungs,
and be thankful.

Photos by Aileen McKay

Photos by Aileen McKay


Outside, squirrels hop shuffle
along shivering branches,
flirting and dashing wildly
as white rain falls to mud.

Inside, Dad watches them,
hands pocketed,
leaning forwards at the window,
as if listening for their secrets.

Aileen McKay recently graduated from a Comparative Literature MLitt at the University of Glasgow. She says, 'I’m an optimist, activist, and street photographer. Glasgow adopted me six years ago after I left behind the sleepy, salty seaside village in the north of Scotland that I did the first part of my growing up in. Nowadays, I work as an English tutor with a feminist agenda. Above all, I am a keen advocate for radical kindnesses — big and small, towards friends and strangers, in private and in public — in our noisy, modern world.'