Eileen Anderson
In the liminal space between the stunted Oak and the wild North Sea is Marram.
Sharp edged grass. Slice your fingers grass. Don’t try clutching it grass.
Root weaver. Sand binder. Dune stabiliser.
Sun-bleached, bone-white skull hider.
Breeze trapper. Foot tripper.
Dagger leaves pointing skywards, seeking the sun.
Roots
always travelling, east and west, north and south.
Each year inching their way out along the coast.
After a first career involving scientific writing, and a second writing people policies, Eileen Anderson now delights in creative writing. The natural world is a constant inspiration, and she is currently completing a collection of Badger stories alongside her poetry.
Briefly Write 