Best Practice

Joyful to have my words inside this Zine. Beating those January Blues one poem at a time.


the best is yet to come

Under the cool bronze of winter sun

I am silence

Face to face with a half-masked deer

and her young

She too is sniffing out the dawn, diamond light

and sharp green pine

Started by the gunshot of a fallen branch

they run, they’ve gone

And I crunch back to our lodge, leave wishes

in the window frost

Bask in the glint of baubles, my sons and knowing

the best is yet to come

❤️Love and peace for the holidays and new year ❤️

11:11 and fulfilment of wishes

Over the past three months I’ve been seeing these numbers absolutely everywhere. This has happened throughout my adult life at significant times of transition and personal growth. Then overnight I had great news that I am going to be included in an upcoming poetry anthology. More on that when the project is announced on social media! 

That got me thinking about co-creation, empowerment and being in the driving seats of our own lives to make them the richest and most satisfying that they can be without fear or rejection holding us back. Living bold! With this in mind, something else I’ve been working on this week is a new project that came about as a synchronicitous conversation with a gorgeous illustrator friend whose big heart I first got to know when I met her in our children’s playground many years ago. I expressed my desire to publish a children’s book and she responded that she had always wanted to illustrate one. She has read and loved my words and I know I’m going to swoon over her pictures. Hopefully the start of a grand adventure. How easy life can be if we just swim down the river and go with our intuition and flow ❤️


The square was crowded with the
coffee shop gait of foreigners
leaning away from their ordinary.
Me too. Awkward on the shoulder
of a world class coxswain turned
irritable technician who
wanted to return to the luxury coach
with or without me. We were.
Young, tasting the flavours of this city
between training sessions, basking in
UV strip lighting before the shadow of
my escalating paranoia snuffed it out.
Breathe. He said, grinding his teeth
as he hoisted me into a seat
then moved further down the aisle.
The month after, I befriended the dawn
we flirted for almost six months
sharing brown bottles of all kinds.
Twenty years on
I still hear birdsong
between my ears
at night