A palm tree in the dead of winter. June 2010.
If you've not had the chance to get onto the new master of the Rolling Stones' Exile on Main Street, get out there and get your grubby little hands on it. Don't make the mistake and think that it's sloppy. It's relaxed, but dudes, it is tight.
Name of a Tree, Catherine Anderson
Some days I am Ana's teacher, some days she is mine.
This morning, we look through her kitchen window,
the one she can't get clean, cobwebs massed
between sash and pane. The sky is blue-gold, almost
the colour of home.
Ana, I say, each winter
I get more lonely. Both of us would like the sun
to linger as that round fruit in June, but Ana says
it's better to forget what you used to know...