An old (but unpublished) poem to announce a new and exciting development:

On the 26th of February 2024, my debut poetry collection, Murmurations, will be available for purchase (and I will turn 42, thereby becoming the answer to life, the universe and everything ;-).  In fact you can already pre-order the e-book here and the Kindle edition here. The paperback will also be available through your regional Amazon shop starting the 26th of February. I am proud, overwhelmed and delighted to have finally reached this step in my journey as a writer, and I hope you all will continue to follow me down wherever the road ahead leads.

There will also be a reading held here in my village on March 2nd – more info on this to follow soon.

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A normal butterfly

One Sunday afternoon in May
down by the riverside
a butterfly alights on an old tree trunk
sparkling in reds and blues and browns and blacks

I catch my breath and say,
“Look! Look at the butterfly!”
To which he replies
“Oh, that? Yeah, that’s just a normal butterfly,
you see those all the time.”

I want to say that there is no such thing.
That each butterfly,
each new day,
each breath, even
is a gift and a wonder.

But I have thought such things too.
Think them regularly.

I have eaten perfectly ripe strawberries
without the appropriate breathless awe
because there’s more, and there will be more every year

I have neglected the aurora borealis
in favour of my bed
because up north it’s just another winter night

I have swum in mountain lakes unthinkingly
because there have always been
and will always be
mountain lakes as clear as the sky

This is the disadvantage of ageing.

So how do we find our way back
to this childlike sense of wonder?

The truth is: I don’t know.

The poet’s wisdom too is an illusion.

All I do is wander through the woods and fields and
down by the riverside.
You could do it too.

All I know is,
to take it one butterfly at a time.