Simply can’t escape the poetics today, it seems. Except that I haven’t found much of them in my head yet.
“I desperately, desperately need to write a poem,” I said, after I’d waffled on about the wild blue mountains of the North.
“Never mind. You can have two ginger biscuits with your coffee when we get home and then perhaps you’ll feel better.”
The ginger biscuits were lovely. They’d have been even better iced with a good stiff poetic frost but,– give me time.
Have a look-see, and click on some links for biscuit recipes. I'm all over trying out the ginger ones now...