‘I Write to You from a Tree Museum’ by Heidi Beck

‘They took all the trees And put ’em in a tree museum’           —Joni Mitchell, Big Yellow Taxi   The exhibit is fully interactive. I sit on a chair (Maple), resting my arms on the sturdy wide plank (Red Oak) which I use as a desk. On my right, a pencil pot (Cherry, downed in a storm) and a coaster (Cork … Continue reading ‘I Write to You from a Tree Museum’ by Heidi Beck

‘Blackbird’ by Fokkina McDonnell

  There’s a blackbird on the wooden fence. It looks left, then right, stretches up and its yellow beak plucks an orange berry from the pyracantha. It looks left, then right, another berry, and one more. It flies off. My caravan at Birch Path 41 has been my home since March. The pyracantha, planted eight years ago, reaches into the garden behind and up into … Continue reading ‘Blackbird’ by Fokkina McDonnell

‘Let all the bells of London sing!’ by Nick Sorensen

  Let all the bells of London sing! St Clements, Stepney, Aldgate, Bow Across blue skies your chimes take wing From shade-filled churches far below St Clements, Stepney, Aldgate, Bow Shoreditch peals in chorus calling From shade-filled churches far below Treble down to tenor falling Shoreditch peals in chorus calling Clapper tongues in towers aspiring Treble down to tenor falling Ring full circle Plain Bob … Continue reading ‘Let all the bells of London sing!’ by Nick Sorensen

image of Helen Barff's artwork of a dress she wore to her father's funeral, drawn in graphite dust

‘The Dress’ by Peter O’Grady

  The Dress after The Dress I Wore to my Dad’s Funeral (drawn with fingers in graphite dust) 2017, a drawing by Helen Barff The dress she wore to her father’s funeral hangs on a hook in the shadows, a cowled priest shuffling in cloisters, solitary, bent head contemplating feet, mumbling, mumbling. The dress she wore to her father’s funeral hangs empty in the shadows, … Continue reading ‘The Dress’ by Peter O’Grady

An image of 'Cinerarias' a painting by Frank Brangwyn (1867-1956)

‘Cineraria’ by Maria Isakova Bennett

  Somewhere, near an open window at a time of year full of preparations for a tomorrow, these bustling flowers settle themselves. Each looks up from its place in the shade, spreads excitement. What a gift that you could bring them home: the whole year in your arms — a blue-white memory of snow, an aria for spring in a yellow soprano, the dense velvet … Continue reading ‘Cineraria’ by Maria Isakova Bennett