Category Archives: Writing

Non-Fiction

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                ‘I stood at the edge of the bay, looking out to where cloud shadows fell onto the immeasurable sands, colouring them deep Prussian blue and red ochre. The whole saltmarsh was silent, the kind of silence that hums in the ears, and it spread over the singing blue of a frozen morning. Then a redshank materialised from a channel close by and unfurled itself skywards, casting its singular ticking call into the sky. My cover was blown and the whole marsh knew I was there.’

Opening lines from ‘The Gathering Tide; A Journey around the Edgelands of Morecambe Bay’

Poetry

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The Helm

This wall walks the spine

of Helm Hill, contouring

its crags and valleys,

flanking the Iron Age ramparts

carved from the summit prow.

Walking in north-flung hail

dark forms materialise

like boats berthed in the lee

of a harbour wall.

Behind wild forelocks the

ponies eyes are still –

their breath blown soft, a lip

dropped lightly open. Tails kinked

like plaits unwound, trailing

the hoof-pocked half-white earth.

The cloud moves on, gifting me

the sun and moon –

two pale disks each

holding an equal weight of sky.

Night and day pivot from the tawny

fulcrum of a kestrel’s wings.

She hangs in air; divides the world.