TOM HIRONS

Writer and storyteller

Tom storytelling at Slavic Tales of Wonder and Dread, Exeter, 2016

Autumn's here. The slow pull of the year down into Winter is hastening, and with it the deepening soul-call resounds. Here's a poem that first appeared in the beautifully-laid out thing that is Fiddler's Green.

The Lapwing Stars


The lapwings have it, no doubt;
Seen across the field, their green-black
Backs are the measure of mystery
For every colour as yet unseen by the boy.

The thin seam of coal by the brook,
Beneath a humpbacked bridge
Of brick and moss over a slow lap
Of water: that has it;
He mines in tan clay with a spoon,
Slick with rain, as sure of riches
As an oil-baron or a king.
The coal has it, but it is not black.

The pheasant in the spinney has it;
Half-glimpsed, gold as a fairytale thread.
As the boy steps between the trees,
Time peels away like leaves of bark,
Century by century by century.

You can read the whole poem here on the website.

Tom's work available from Hedgespoken Press

Sign up for a very occasional newsletter about Tom's work