If someone asked me six years ago how to write a book and get it published, I’d have said what I had been told, “Find a quiet spot and just start.  You learn to write by writing.” Now, six years later, I might add a little to that advice. I had written diaries, short stories,…

Her bones are cold 
And tinder-thin. 
Arteries and veins show through
Transparent skin.

I’m waiting for the bus on a grey winter afternoon with my 8-year-old daughter, Ellie.
The bus is late. It doesn’t take much to bring traffic to a standstill in the narrow streets of the old market town we’ve been visiting, so I say, “Shall I tell you a story?”

Hay, green and warmer
Than the sun-warm growing grass;

Layer on layer of stems and showering seeds.
Crumpled leaves, releasing scents