Shivering the moon from my shoulders I say to November
let me in your cloud scrap home
breathe the knife of you
taste your chimney-smoke and rain
your damp-armed trees
and all their rag-patch sheddings
that stroke the land.
Wendy Rathbone has been scribbling her thoughts in journals since the age of 12 and has had over 500 poems published in various magazines and anthologies.