January 2018

Near the river

Having absorbed the flood and the fear, the riverside grassland flops on to its bed and sleeps dreaming of things that come and go, the flow of footsteps splashing through, heading for the bridge New wood, the promise of lambs…

Read: Near the river


Dead wood in the pool below the weir, mud on the banks: above the rushing fall, still water beneath the concrete road where my mother, who saw the first car drive up Eaton hill, never felt at home Water is…

Read: Cringleford