Poem of the Week - 'Burns Night' by Owen Gallagher

Burns Night

I want to be that lone bagpipe player in the field,
in full dress, under the motorway, pumping up

the sun on this icy morning, forcing leaves out 
on trees, piping one of a forgotten clan from a glen,

play at the opening of the Highland Games
from Braemar to the Cowal Gathering,

and lead a triumphant Scottish football team
off at the next World Cup. The pipe's drone

reminds me of their banning, the clearances, kilts
and dirks, and make me feel like a celebrity

as I'm piped into this London field,
before I have finished my morning run,

by a magical, mantelpiece figure
in a Munro, MacLean, or MacPhurlan tartan,

who could tease salmon from a river
and a wandering Scot back home.

In celebration of Burns Night yesterday (yesternight?), we've chosen this spirited work from Salmon poet Owen Gallagher as our poem of the week. From his third collection A Good Enough Love, available to order on our website.