Don Paterson

Don Paterson (1963- ) was born in Dundee, Scotland and left school to pursue a career in music, moving to London in 1984. At about this time he also began writing poetry. Stints in Brighton and Edinburgh followed as he developed his twin pursuits, forming the jazz-folk ensemble, Lammas, in the late 80s and publishing his first collection, Nil Nil, in 1993. This won the Forward Prize for the Best First Collection and secured him a place in the Poetry Society’s ‘New Generation Poets’ promotion.  Paterson is currently poetry editor at Picador, teaches in the School of English at St Andrews University, and lives in Kirriemuir, Angus.

You can hear him read some poems in his lovely Scottish accent here.

Two Trees

One morning, Don Miguel got out of bed

with one idea rooted in his head

to graft his orange to his lemon tree.

It took him the whole day to work them free,

lay open their sides, and lash them tight.

For twelve months, from the shame or from the fright

they put forth nothing; but one day there appeared

two lights in the dark leaves. Over the years

the limbs would get themselves so tangled up

each bough looked like it gave a double crop,

and not one kid in the village didn’t know

the magic tree in Miguel’s patio.

The man who bought the house had had no dream

so who can say what dark malicious whim

led him to take his axe and split the bole

along its fused seam, and then dig two holes.

And no, they did not die from solitude;

nor did their branches bear a sterile fruit;

nor did their unhealed flanks weep every spring

for those four yards that lost them everything

as each strained on its shackled root to face the

other’s empty intricate embrace.

They were trees, and trees don’t weep or ache or shout.

And trees are all this poem is about. 

— Don Paterson