After a day full of tears yesterday, I got up and wrote a poem just-like-that this morning. It felt good. Half way through writing, my husband shouted from upstairs (where he is self-isolating with COVID) that there was a rainbow out the back. That changed the direction of my poem, and hopefully my week/year (yeah, […]Read More
Friday evening was a first for me. My first ever book launch! My friend Sally and I had discovered the perfect venue – a beautiful yurt near Canterbury called ‘The Quiet View’. Lizzie and John were perfect hosts, having set up the room in a beautiful circle – I immediately felt my nerves settle when […]Read More
In the mornings when I wake
I reach for the drops
to moisten my dry eyes
accents in tallow
licked at by the pale hound
we lashed to the downpipe
leaden with undertones of blue
You may be wondering, why follow the heron, when most of the time he stands still?
It is in those very times of stillness when we create magic. When poems are born, when the pencil etches an intoxicating line on a page, when we come home to ourselves.