Oh my, it’s nearly Christmas. We love our festive traditions and here’s a particular favourite: the Northern Soul Christmas poem by Wendy Pratt, written in response to Paul Hunter’s beautiful photograph.
Time becomes white noise, here.
Nothing moves. A stillness of trees
is woodcut-black against snow,
white as a winter stoat.
Hawthorn becomes horizon;
a fence-line-reflection of nothing
and nothing and we are wintered out,
stepping deeply across, into the sky.
To find out more about Wendy and her work, please click here.
To find out more about Paul and his work, click here.