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Nature Notes by Malcolm Cooke
This is a book.
Look child,
this is a tree.
See honeyed chocolate wood, smooth
flowing through trunk and branches,
a candelabra wearing a hair snood of mint green leaves,
each taken from the master leaf in the artist’s eye.
Poetic prose – a medical conundrum?
The condition crept up on me; slowly, slyly like a slug sliming across the garden path.It began, I think, on a beach when walking. All the words out of reach when trying to capture the thin line where sky and earth meet. If I was far enough out, could I simply...