a poem for June

‘Green was the silence, wet was the light
the month of June trembled like a butterfly
and in the south dominion, from the sea and the stones,
Matilde, you traversed the midday.

You were loaded with ferrous flowers,
seaweeds that the south wind torments and forgets,
still white, shrivelled by the devouring salt,
your hands raised the stalks of sand.’

– from Sonnet XL by Pablo Neruda

 

my beautiful circus

It’s that time of year again. The mysterious white Giffords Circus big top is making its way from town to town, flanked by glossy maroon liveried wagons. In a matter of hours, a field, a park or a village green is transformed into something altogether more magical, a secret world of tricks and adventure, of music, laughter

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a poem for May

The Trees ‘The trees are coming into leaf Like something almost being said; The recent buds relax and spread, Their greenness is a kind of grief.Is it that they are born again And we grow old? No, they die too, Their yearly trick of looking new Is written down in rings of grain. Yet still

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the year in books: April & May 2018

I’ve read several novels over the last couple of months: The Essex Serpent, The Paying Guests and Fiona Mozley’s darkly brilliant and haunting Elmet. By accident, rather than by design, I’m now conccurently reading books by two of my favouirte authors on the theme of walking: Wanderlust by Rebecca Solnit and The Old Ways by Robert

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