Sand sisters

for Aimée Divisions had already been drawn before you were born —  our blood would be thick but we were pulled from different rivers, silt running down our thighs:   I remember the morning I held you, brushing distance from your brow and learning your name,  just as you would learn mine — stumbling over … Continue reading Sand sisters

I am June

The smell of summer mud drifts in from the Estuary,  invites itself into the village,  wearing flowers for a crown.   It proclaims June and beetles free themselves from my winter sleeves.  And the bees, living in the chimney, bow and buzz in the ecstasy of the mud’s arrival;   the tide singing along to … Continue reading I am June

On Living

after Nâzim Hikmet I   When we draw life, the pen never lifts from the ageing page. As trees, we move in circles, cycles - we lose everything and nothing, for the days we blossom green.   Our hands will always wrinkle in the water, in the biting wind. We will always blush at the … Continue reading On Living