Literary Vegan

Pound coins in coal tit feathers grip branches for the very first time. Courage, calling orange,  buttercup bellies out in the wind wild  — see these tiny antidotes to whatever salt you brought under the tree.

Lilac stars flinch in hail confusion, day insects hide. Pretty tin fingertips night-surface siren the fairy snakes.

My seedlings are three centimetres high. The magpie carries mud futures in its mouth and lilac sprouts tiny trumpets that swallowed too much. But still the sun bows  like a wet plant, unexpected ice hails in my tea cup. Spiders work harder with broken webs and I make art uncertain  of where it will end. 

When I am too tired to write, I lie down in someone else's lines; soothed by the weight of art and keeping words awake. LJ Ireton 

A swish of a tail and a trail of sherbert stars lifts from your palms; moon-wings, robins and bees play on glitter streams woven into the dark — you dust our thoughts, sweetening the forest with pastel paws and pumpkins.  For Laura Ellen Anderson  LJ Ireton, 2026

Write into the silence — we find ourselves through paper mirrors.  LJ Ireton, 2026