Winter Trails is an album of my poems, journeying through late fall when the wire of the trees begins to dominate, till the end of January. After promoting it and it soaring to three quarter million reads, Wattpad unceremoniously dumped it. Here it still is though.

'Festina Lente' is the Latin phrase. The headmaster, of the grammar school I went to as a boy, once uttered it in my direction as I skidded round a corner of a corridor like Charlie Chaplin. He never raised his voice except in assembly since he kept a cane or two in his office. I heard that phrase again in the wind, in the flapping of drying autumn leaves. October and November (and indeed December, still technically autumn up to the 20th} are countries of their own.