‘When I approached you from the South,’ he said, ‘I was young. I was giddy as a mayfly and, though I look down now on that time as frivolous and childish, oh God, I would give it all up to know such youth again. The world was beautiful, exotic, erotic; I lived entirely in my skin and muscle and knew heaven through some strange alchemy of fascia and foolishness. It was – in my memory, at least – always Summer. My skin was golden and warm, hungry for the touch of fingertip or lip, but sufficient in delight to slip through the world unimpeded by loss or longing. I leap-frogged through the streets and danced in the fields and knew that the world was brightly-coloured and alive.

A man encounters a standing stone in a field at the end of the world. Apparently, they have a history. Black Hat by Tom Hirons is the account of their meeting and their past, the ways that Black Hat has approached the mysterious stone from every direction, attempting an alchemical conjunction. Black Hat and his dog are no strangers to strangeness, but the nature of this field is a perplexing mystery.

Falconer’s Joy includes five poems by Tom Hirons.