The cactus when it blooms

Jill Martindale Farrar To no schedule but her own mostly, maybe, after rain though sometimes drought decides She sits and bares her teeth surviving soil as poor as stone and crooked stares Medea in her battlements equipped with barbs impervious, immune to beauty’s rules And season’s rhyme till some whim or enduring rage weeps fromContinue reading “The cactus when it blooms”

Winter Pruning

Christine Burrows winter solstice tick-tocks the cutting, digging ritual secateurs snick, cut clean through thick thorny shafts and scraggly-leafed branches each rose bush must be pared down to a gnarled fist with a single, spike-armoured finger menace revealed, then tucked into a bed of pea-straw when frost-melt steams in September sun new-forged thorns and leaves,Continue reading “Winter Pruning”

Fish in a paddy field

SoulReserve words, familiar, catch on the tessellating susurrating fragments of her fluid mind. like fish in a paddy field, she is mindlessly adrift, drifting within the corridors of half-eaten, half- -nibbled-on words with a smooth, gliding motion. the tender-green sprigs of rice lie submerged inside amber water. stagnant, clouded with faint memories that become livingContinue reading “Fish in a paddy field”