Launch at the Bristol Folk House

We had a lovely launch on Friday night at the Bristol Folk House. Lots of people came – family, former colleagues, poets galore, and the Folk House people did us proud I was wonderfully supported by three other poets, who made a great mix. They were  Deborah Harvey , Ben Banyard and  Melanie Branton. So this is mostly  thank you to them and all who came, bought books, and helped out.

As well as thanks to Deborah (left)  Melanie (right) and Ben (below, he took the photos so I had to get one of him off the Indigo Dreams website), thanks to Richard and Rosie of  the Folk House, and the two people behind the bar, also Andi Langford Woods who made sure we could be heard, Chris Lindop who sold books, Robin Lindop Fisher who managed drinks orders, and almost last and certainly not least, the Friday morning poetry group and Colin Brown at The Leaping Word. Finally, none of this would have happened at all, of course  without the support of The Blue Nib who accepted the book and and published it very swiftly – so see you  in Dublin in September.

There are other events coming sooner though, in Bath and Bristol featuring the IsamBards, and various combinations of those above which you can find here. So here is the last poem of the night, featuring the fox on the cover. Ironically, I discovered this evening that the foxes at the back of the allotments have been rolling about in our onions, gooseberries, and broad beans. We’re useful, but they don’t need us.

A fox’s late winter blessing

May soil go soft beneath your claws
to give you beetles grubs and worms
the alleyways be full of food, the roots
and stones conspire to keep you dry.

May your nose know all the languages
of dead and living. May everything
by its nose learn your range and kin
your songs shake sleepers from their dreams.

May cats and dogs who think they’re hard
see your teeth and think again.
May seagulls never get there first
and wires and highways not restrain you.

On long green evenings or belated dawns
may your own kits play on and on,
moon after moon, and even after
this city itself has gone.

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