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All of Nature is Connected

| Sheree

In case you’re a kid who doesn’t have the right equipment,
and just in case you’re growing too big for your bones and
have to walk around in second-feet shoes,

take a moment to nestle in the autumn chilled grass,
lean in close, breathe in the slack conker smell and squint.
You might not have a magnifying glass but you can still

recognise kin. Ladybirds, beetles and ants.
Creatures of the earth. Overlooked and taken for granted,
caretake as you learn to nurture yourself into bloom.

The Situation is Ruined

| Sheree

The bride stays calm in her three tiered dress.
Pretending not to notice the munchkins
slicing into the her bodice or the gingerbread man
chewing on her trailing lace.

With each full toothed grin, she hopes she dislodges
the sharp prongs of scorn cutting
into her skull from her tiara.
Hopes she flicks off the droplets
of bloods staining her veil.

With the dark cloud gathering
and the guests running for cover
she stays at the altar, mouthing her vows
to love, cherish and grieve the little girl lost
and wasted on marzipan and sugared icing.

Fear on the Playroom Floor

| Sheree

An oversized, blue fluffy bunny
is the things of nightmares.
Garish, stalks the playroom floor.

I hide behind the enlarged
building blocks, hands over ears and heart
busting my chest. Afraid

the bunny will hear me, find me
and beat me. Beat me for being me.
I didn’t do anything wrong.

I fear this fear. Not knowing
where the next blow from the taloned
paw is coming from and why.

Not knowing if my existence
is an affront or punishable offence.
I dream of other floors

with soft cushioned landings
blankets and warmth, like
under autumn leaves breathing orange.

Rubbernecking

| Sheree

She’s called Daphe, the woman running the business training out of her Notting Hill home.

The Thames curves south from here by Chelsea, sluggish brown. The city’s awake and burning.

Have you been to see the damage yet? he asks, in our snatched conversation.

Almost gleeful in his hunger to hear details about the tower block which blazed leaving so many people missing or dead.

He says there’s photographs of the missing stuck to tree trucks, walls and railings. Black, brown and olive skinned and missing.

I don’t want to see this suffering. The ruins becoming a tourist attraction. Leave them with some dignity. Always having to endure the gaze in life and death.

Summer Fox

| Sheree

Could I be as cute and cunning as a fox, I giggle into another snapshot filter. 

Happy in my play and disregard for others’ opinions.

His eyes are open and still. I think he’s a he, slight and young. Pointy nose with white frosting.

The rest of him is a dull orange red.

So whole and perfect and dead.

Lying on his side at the edge of the motorway, four legs sticking straight out as if ready to bounce back onto, after playing dead. 

I feel guilty. I didn’t hit him. He was already dead when I flew by in Summer, my metallic orange Susuki Splash, honest. 

But when I see him dead as clear as day, I feel shame at my mini Snapchat film and buying into the cunning as a fox stereotype of fairytales. 

My heart stays in my throat for the whole day.
Why did he have to die, such beauty and no blood? 

Autumn Walk

| Sheree

This is my season.

I love this time of year. Autumn is my birth season and it’s when I shine. There’s that ‘back-to-school’ feeling accompanied by the change in energy and light. There’s a bubbling of anticipation as the landscape is on the turn. Transformation is possible.

I lean into the season by getting outside into nature as much as possible. Usually when the schools go back , we can enjoy a few weeks of sunshine, a late summer roll out of heat before the temperatures drop.


September is also a good month also to enjoy sea swimming as this is as warm as it’s going to get, The North Sea, after storing some of the summer’s warmth. The water can be so clear sometimes, calm and still.

This transitional season is beautiful because where there is life there is also decay and death. The late blooming flowers still have some joy to give. At the same time as the berries are bursting out of brambles and bushes. Leaves begin to turn colour, to collect in brown bundles. A time to harvest those seeds we planted in spring. A time to count our blessings and give thanks.

Happy Autumn x