August – The Consolations of Writing

“August Sabbath”, and eight years of poetry

Eight years ago today, I began writing poetry. It was a beautiful spring day – the promise of things to come. But, as is so often the case at the end of a Melbourne winter, the spring was fragile. Cool weather could return at any moment and snap up the new growth. I was aboutContinue reading ““August Sabbath”, and eight years of poetry”