Solmonath

A poem for you this day. Solmonað is the Anglo-Saxon equivalent of February. It translates to “mud month.” False springs appear in deep winter – a tease of green as the snow falls again. Restless, we count robins – or are they sparrows playing games? We long for buds and blossoms under a Lent-grey sky […]

Monday Afternoon

There is only one cure for this monotony: Yes, coffee strong enough to balance on the knob of the radiator, while I huddle beside it for warmth. Other afternoons , I’ll venture to fetch myself an Americano, or, if I’m desperate enough, a Coke. Today, I successfully talked myself out of the latter and its sugary carbonation. Right […]

Frost

Frost is nature’s graffiti. Jack Frost came in the night and painted on the window panes with his index finger. I imagine him as Peter Pan’s doppelganger cousin. An ageless mischievous boy who makes his art and flicks away into the night, thrives on the bitter cold and eats snow. He might also be responsible for […]