Have You Seen My Trowel?

I imagine archaeologists to be a rugged lot. Thick-soled boots like the treads of earth-movers, caked in ancient and illuminating grime. Wide brims and handkerchiefs and mirrored sunglasses to guard against a bully-sun cracking its knuckles. Scrapes and bruises; dehydration and sunburns; fingertips raw, knees creaking, eyes gritty and red. And pockets. Lots of pockets. […]

Metrical Friday: Small boy

Small boy By Norman McCaig He picked up a pebble and threw it into the sea. And another, and another. He couldn’t stop. He wasn’t trying to fill the sea. He wasn’t trying to empty the beach. He was just throwing away, nothing else but. Like a kitten playing he was practising for the future […]

Blood Moon Rising

Crisp and white, bars of light crept across the bedroom floor. I sighed and lifted the covers, awake after crawling to bed and not sleeping for five hours. I slouched to the window and lifted a slat to see a fullish moon hanging above the rooftops, washing out the imperfect glow of street lights lining […]