What do you mean, ‘It’s Christmas’?
It happens all the time, like a book you know is there but can’t find on the shelves.
There was a time when I couldn’t have gone, and I haven’t forgotten it.
It’s a gorgeous thing when a poem arrives at a felicitous rhyme, a choice word that pops up by happenstance.
We ‘did’ Frost for O level.
Poetry history is taking place in Perthshire. It's doing this in glorious sunshine, with leaves brandishing all the shades of Autumn and rowan berries gleaming like jewels.