This Poem is a Hill, Indigo Water and Whiffling Geese

This poem is a distant hill. This poem is a welter of indigo water. This poem is geese whiffling overhead. This poem is a rolling, breaking wave of corn the colour of honeycomb, washing against the grassy spine of an ancient sleeping dragon, a landslide washed green. This poem is a distant hill. This poem […]

(Spring) Fun

finding shy snowdrops that arrive like little candles to light up the garden followed by skipping cats that brush my legs in a game of tag watching catkins wriggle their tails and cats in trees hearing the first cries of newborn lambs on the breeze picking out the songs of different birds outside the window […]