Birlin Roon The mair time A spend on Airth the mair A want God tae be a wumman. No that weemin are uniquely virtuous in aw weys, raither that if there's ony vortices o virtue in the cosmos it's mair likely tae be amang the craiturs that gie birth than them whase function is ither-like and opposite. A’d like a God different frae whit A wis brocht up wi that got hemmered intae ma heid like nails early on – a jealous, birsie, beardie fellae glowerin doon frae his heivenly tenement. A’d like a God that wis like a Glesca grannie, aye up fur takkin the weans tae the pairk, kennin they need a bit a fresh air, same as she dis, and a push on the swings. She rejoices in their play, bends doon tae gie comfort tae the yin that's skint her knee, intervenes when the gemm's getting rough, or when yin wean is threatenin tae clour the ither on the neb. And afore denner time, afore gaun-hame time she gies them a turn on the carousel aw thegither, balancin ilkither, aw equal, and she caws the bar for yin mair go and gars it flee, and it birls, and it birls, and it birls (Winner Autumn Voices Competition, 2025)