Heaney tells of intimate adult conversations by the Fireside and how, as a child, he would listen intently to the tales, sometimes losing himself in his imaginings. Without fail (Always) these fireside conversations would turn to unearthly stories of lights / hovering by bushes or at the foot of a meadow or scary animal figures (a goat with cold horns) in silhouette (pluming into the moon), or ghostly midnight presences betrayed by a tingle of chains on the ( )road. On occasion (Then, maybe) reports (word) would be circulating of local poachers engaged in the nocturnal lamping of fishes, to the narrator a blend of skill and black magic (watery art). The boy would suddenly become part of the action, […]