poetry
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Fit Lads of Winter & The Birth of The Icicle Lounge
There’s something about winter that sharpens everything. The air is colder. The sky is clearer. The silence feels closer to the skin. And yet—in that cold—warmth becomes unmistakable. “Fit Lads of Winter” began as a playful meditation on contrast. I kept imagining figures striding through snow as if it were nothing. Jackets open. Breath visible.… Continue reading
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Morning. Coffee. Birdsong.
There’s something beautifully Irish about the way morning begins. Before traffic. Before emails. Before the news. Just the thin grey light over hedges and fields—and the blackbird breaking the silence. When I wrote this dawn chorus poem, I was thinking about that ancient rhythm: robin on the post, wrens in the ivy, curlew calling over… Continue reading
NeuroDivine 