a poem for February


‘Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know
what despair is; then
winter should have meaning for you.

I did not expect to survive,
earth suppressing me. I didn’t expect
to waken again, to feel
in damp earth my body
able to respond again, remembering
after so long how to open again
in the cold light
of earliest spring–

afraid, yes, but among you again
crying yes risk joy

in the raw wind of the new world.’

-Louise Glück

a poem for January

New Year on Dartmoor ‘This is newness : every little tawdry Obstacle glass-wrapped and peculiar, Glinting and clinking in a saint’s falsetto. Only you Don’t know what to make of the sudden slippiness, The blind, white, awful, inaccessible slant. There’s no getting up it by the words you know. No getting up by elephant or

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back for a new year

Nothing says fresh start like a blanket of untrodden snow. It’s so rare for us to have a proper snowfall, and yet December brought two, each time transforming the local landscape into a Narnian wonderland. After two days of sledging, snowballs and angel-making with the children, on the third day they returned to school and

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