by Helen Ivory | Jul 9, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Snow Globe Twilight and a snow globe find her watching. Slow-tip flurry of chalk flocks a partial scene, the postcard side; no 80s red, No hurricane lamps for sale, no stainless steel, going cheap, then kept for best. No lonely morning walks in...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 8, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Pact The lawn’s carpeted with yellow leaves. Gardeners on a mission, we rake them into doubloon mounds. The air is sharp and clear. In the sky I hear a distant plane. Closer by, the sounds of children’s voices. Our eyes meet. No need for words. I...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 7, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
The Boundary Dug in the gum of a field the stone stile sits, boot-worn and old with the hedgerows; its aged, slate skin bone-hard and clammy as I lean my hands on its beaten brow. On the other side a coat of emerald grass hugs the claggy, brown...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 6, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
The Concise British Flora in Colour The Reverend W Keble Martin, 1965 Netting the soul of meadow, woodland, towan, with one thousand, four hundred and eighty-six portraits, you travelled the veins of these islands; gathered the common, rare,...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 5, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Coast Redwood When we come across her in the bluebells, stretched out flat, she says Sequoia Sempervirens is the tallest living species of tree on Earth, altogether more ancient and venerable than, say, the Douglas Fir or the Small-leaved Lime. In...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 3, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Havana Sorrow crumbles down everywhere. Gaping holes on Malecon filled with stones. Yes, Hemingway drank his mojitos and daiquiris here. Yes, you can drink there too. Just watch out for rake-thin, sad dogs. Deserted Plaza de la Revolution still...
