By Sarah Robin

Hello August, 
My most productive month of the year
With lots of harvest and preserving to do.

The aroma of vinegar in the kitchen 
Signifies the start of pickling season
When gherkins are stuffed into jars

Then covered in ladel-fulls
Of homemade vinegar and infused
With fresh homegrown herbs and spices.

Weekly harvests of sun-kissed tomatoes
Need turning into sauces and salsa 
Before bottling up.

A summery palette of annual sunflowers 
And sweetpeas fill the plot with colour. 
Perennial flowers keep pollinators busy.

With such good harvests this month,
I know I’ll be grateful in the depths
Of winter when I can provide 

Splashes of summer from the packed 
Store cupboards and freezers,
Creating a sense of warmth and gratitude.

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Sarah Robin is a new writer from Bolton, England, starting her writing journey during the coronavirus pandemic. Robin has had several pieces of work published in anthologies and online literary magazines, as well as being a competition winner for both short fiction and poetry. She is also a prose reader for Sepia Journal. Find her on Twitter.

By Sarah Robin

A naked figure sits hunched over on the floor,
Their arms wrapped around their body.
Surrounded by a wall of thick glass;
Closed off from everyone and everything
But visible to all.

Muffled voices and banging fists
Attack the barrier, desperate to help
But unable to break through;
Unable to touch them or hold them close,
Or provide comfort and love.

Soft, calming voices of reason
Bounce off the glass, instantly rejected.
Ideas of solutions break down,
Unable to withstand the backlash,
Crumbling onto the floor.

The wall stands strong, unharmed,
No scratches, no cracks; unbreakable.
Those on the outside watch on helplessly
And the figure continues to suffer alone;
Willingly.

Outsiders sit by the glass
Unable to help but they stay.
Always there in good faith
That one day the figure may accept help
And take the wall away.

---

Sarah Robin is a new writer from Bolton, England, starting her writing journey during the coronavirus pandemic. Robin has had several pieces of work published in anthologies and online literary magazines, as well as being a competition winner for both short fiction and poetry. She is also a prose reader for Sepia Journal. Find her on Twitter.

By Sarah Robin

The crunch of leaves underfoot, 
Dew-damp grass in glowing light, 
A tang of woodsmoke and ripening compost
Tell us that the seasons have shifted.

This step into October 
Is every gardeners’ new year
As the natural cycle propels us forward.
Now is the time to turn dreams into reality.

The seasonal shift and dropping 
Temperatures herald a change of pace,
But our gardens remain hives of activity,
Though often underground and out of sight

As plants reset for the year ahead
And wildlife seeks out spaces for hibernation.
It’s a great excuse to get outside
And tune into the season unfurling before us.

---

Sarah Robin is a new writer from Bolton, England, starting her writing journey during the coronavirus pandemic. Robin has had several pieces of work published in anthologies and online literary magazines, as well as being a competition winner for both short fiction and poetry. She is also a prose reader for Sepia Journal. Find her on Twitter.