Tomorrow is the winter solstice, when the night is at its longest and the day at its shortest.

The late William Neill, who wrote in Scots, English, and Gaelic, offers a short but atmospheric reflection at this turning point in the year. (From Caledonian Cramboclink, Luath Press, £8.99.)

SOLSTICE WOOD

There is a spinney on the ridge

and I am certain

that it was always there.

When the winter solstice comes

and a red sphere falls behind trees,

I like to think

I am not entirely alone

but that other eyes, across time

are with me, and show the same pleasure

that this is the shortest day

as the druid wheel of the sun

rolls swiftly towards springtime.