How would you prepare to die on a perfect April evening?
I'll be left writing picture books and fairy tales
Between 9am and 3pm is when I work most intensely
Time hates love, wants love poor,/but love spins gold, gold, gold from straw.
You can find poetry in your everyday life, your memory, in what people say on the bus, in the news, or just what's in your heart.
I think the dangers are different now. Our abuse of the planet and our resources is an anxiety.