Broagh

Riverbank, the long rigs
ending in broad docken
and a canopied pad
down to the ford
The garden mould
bruised easily, the shower
gathering in your heelmark
was the black O
in Broagh,
its low tattoo
among the windy boortrees
and rhubarb-blades
ended almost
suddenly, like the last
gh the strangers found
difficult to manage.

© Seamus Heaney, permissons Faber & Faber Ltd.

Seamus Heaney is connecting the native speech with the sounds of the locality to suggest why strangers don’t understand.