It Is A Moon Wrapped In Brown

When You Have A Child, Your Previous Life Seems Like Someone Else's. It's Like Living In A House And Suddenly Finding A Room You Didn't Know Was There, Full Of Treasure And Light.

Where I Lived - Winter And Hard Earth.i Sat In My Cold Stone Roomchoosing Tough Words, Granite, Flint,to Break The Ice. My Broken Heart -i Tried That, But It Skimmed,flat, Over The Frozen Lake.she Came From A Long, Long Way,but I Saw Her At Last, Walking,my Daughter, My Girl, Across The Fields,in Bare Feet, Bringing All Spring's Flowersto Her Mother's House. I Swearthe Air Softened And Warmed As She Moved,the Blue Sky Smiling, None Too Soon,with The Small Shy Mouth Of A New Moon.

I Think All Poets Must Feel This: That There Is Constantly Something New To Be Discovered In The Language. It's Like A Thrilling Encounter, And You Can Find Things.

Between 9am And 3pm Is When I Work Most Intensely

I'll Be Left Writing Picture Books And Fairy Tales