So into December we go. A really gloomy day here in the wilds of north Essex today. But that’s only right for this time of year, yeah?
It feels like a blink since we were publishing Pomes Flixus six months ago. Yet how bright and green the late days of May seem now.
Did you get hold of a copy of the book yourself? Did you mean to? Well, if you order one from Dunlin Press any time before the end of the year I’ll personally throw in something extra for Christmas. Think of it as an advent calendar surprise.
Here’s a poem from the collection:
‘Here’s That Rainy Day’
As we look out to a little street
all the parked commuter cars
the houses there beyond the river
the feeling that summer never quite got going
but here with a view after all
of our occasional need for ease and quiet
content in a kind of neutral mid-tempo
but also finding reason
in a quickness unfolding around us
where the drains fill with a thirst of ages
the hydrangeas by the corner
almost insanely thankful
the birds instantly much quieter
heading for the birches and false acacias
things that know best how to handle these moments
all round the ringed roads of the estate
like coaxial thoughts that desired being straightened
or vertical like rain
forgetting that rain has its inflections
or that sometimes there’s little
between rain and drenched air
all deep-wet for something
that needs us without regret
and feels effortless
as a soft voice falling in a shower of notes.
Okay then. Want to see a bit more? Go here. Want to make an oldish writer smile by placing an order? Go here.
Stay safe everyone.
xx
MW Bewick 