“If it were not for the sun glinting on the pool of rainwater in the slight dip of the lawn, John would have thought he was back  home in Cloghan, swiping the earth with a clean cut of the slane. Ever since he could manage the grip of one, he had worked on the bog every May along with his cousins and others from his village. But the sun told him all he needed to know.”

Extract from ‘Birds of Erin’ – included in the showcase