I think that this beautiful poem by the Scots poet Kathleen Jamie (1962-), so tranquil on the surface, is about the secret places of the heart, about the dream of casting off all duties and expectations, even those of poetry, and returning to that state of pure being in which the poems are actually born. ‘When all this over…’ When all what is over? The demands of the making, I would guess. The German poet Rilke towards the end of his life spoke of no longer being able to delight in new landscapes as he once did because he would immediately feel he had to set about internalizing them for use in his poetry. In our time Seamus Heaney has similarly spoken of sometimes wanting just to let it all go, to forget about poetry and spend his time on some quiet water fishing from a boat.

Why the white boat in the last two lines? I don’t know, and possible this is a reference entirely personal to the poet, but it can be noted that the rowan is a tree of magical protection, and that there may be a mythical resonance here with the boat that awaited Arthur on his journey to Avalon.

Lochan

(For Jean Johnstone)

When all this is over I mean
to travel north, by the high

drove roads and cart tracks
probably in June

with the gentle dog-roses
flourishing beside me. I mean

to find among the thousands
scattered in that land

a certain quiet lochan
where water lilies rise

like small fat moons.
and tied among the reeds,

underneath a rowan,
a white boat waits.

Kathleen Jamie