The Lagan – a muddy silt river –
Barrel of roll-tide, ribs of clean branches
Poke up water jutting. On the towpath
I glean a warm wet clap of newly
Sprung rain. Smell old tide’s bones,
As gulls glew; I rivet along cycling.
I watch my middle-distance –
A dark bird shape-shifts,
A feather-fine-fat-belly tightening to
A fistful of coal. Getting blacker
Quickly, then on into the water,
Length of slate straight down.
By N.J. Burns
Neil Burns lives in London and is a poet, writer of short stories and plays and works for a charity. He is a lover of nature and is currently reading himself through the western literary canon. His work has been published in The Railto and The North magazines and is currently working on a semi-auto biographical novel.
Daksheeta Pattni is a London based illustrator, working with the mediums of pen and ink. Her work involves detailed line and dot work.’
www.daksheetapattni.com | Twitter: @daksheetapattni