This year, she saves seeds
from the garden’s brightest spaces:
twists the dark nubs
from their papery cases
shakes the splayed seed-heads
over the tray
enjoys the precision of splitting,
with her nail’s edge,
the sideseam of a speckled pod.
Those lupins - the way rain nestles
in the leaves’ mid-ribs,
that everlasting pea - scentless,
such a climber, its tendrils’ curls still
clinging to the splintered fence.
She cups her hand, slides
her hoard into the tiny packets,
pen at the ready. Come Spring,
she will turn the soil
with her warm hands.
She looks at her gleanings: their promise.
Rosemary is a queer writer, fuelled by coffee. She has twice been a winner of the Oxford Radcliffe Library Poetry Prize and her work has appeared in Mslexia, The Fenland Reed, Black Bough Poems, The Wellington Street Journal and elsewhere. Her poems are anthologised by Dunlin Press, PaperSwans, Fairacre Press.
How writing has affected Rosemary's wellbeing:
I have been interested recently in the relationship between poetry and wellness. When I ran our local poetry writers’ group, I was struck by how therapeutic it was for some people to write - to express their feelings but also to enjoy the process of shaping and crafting that expression so that it remained true to their feeling but also clear to read. I also found that reading poetry itself allows us to explore / rehearse / find our own feelings. I used to use Daisy Goodwin’s 100 Poems to Keep You Sane, for example, to facilitate this. People sometimes associate poetry with misery but this, I think, is false! There are plenty of cheerful poems. But, on the other hand, we all experience sadness and poetry can offer us a way to explore and process it, together.