The Phoenix Motel languishes at the end of a long dusty highway, the bugs on your windscreen betraying how hard and fast the drive has been. The rooms are filling quickly as they always do this time of year. The smart money is getting locked in for the scorpion's moon.

Last night I found myself wandering back through time. I lay my body down to sleep and my soul slips out to set sail on the old currents that still sometimes lap at my shore.

Every dark moon found her wandering these enchanted moors, a practice she had employed for lifetimes as she bore witness to painful rising and falling in the world of men. For far too many centuries now she had held the terrible cost to her aching heart as the moon turned her face to darkness. They wept together, tears turning to crystal in the frozen night air and falling from the sky like diamonds to litter the landscape with hope.

Last night I found myself wandering back through time. I lay my body down to sleep and my soul slips out to set sail on the old currents that still sometimes lap at my shore.

Because this is my birth-ing day, it seems entirely perfect to announce the arrival of my very first book baby.

Morsel, a collection of poems and tales, is due for release when the stars align in just a few short weeks!

Tonight without leaving my bed I make my pilgrimage to the darkest corner of the forest. The shadow of black granite rises to pierce the rumbling sky. I do not let the chill in my bones slow my determined progress. I drag the ache in my heart behind me as I place my well worn doll into the empty chamber for safekeeping.

Not all moons are created equal. The journey through the deep treacle of the Aquarian balsam is no ordinary dark mooning. Descending like an otherworldly cloak as beneath its soft sparking folds you are transported, this caravan of selves.