Some days you hope for chub
but the fish in their chub-holes
just won't bite -
their presence simply eludes you.
...
Starting is the best.
As I hold the sack waist high
a foot in each corner
for the race ahead
...
Renton Road Allotments were on the other side of town
somewhere you'd never been to
but it conjured up the conviviality
of mixing with people from different cultures
...
Great trains came here.
We used to wave them on as if we could help them on their way;
enjoyed the rush of windows picking up speed a mile out
...
Neil Leadbeater is an author, poet, essayist and critic living in Edinburgh, Scotland.)
Chub
Some days you hope for chub
but the fish in their chub-holes
just won't bite -
their presence simply eludes you.
Deception on a scale like this
deprives you of your silver lining:
the heaving, dark-green, moss-green backs
in the middle reaches of Wye
and Severn
merging into evening.
Their coy diffidence
gets the better of you.
How to draw them out
is your big puzzlement
just as it is
with distance and absence -
you wonder how to close the gap
that has somehow come
between you.