Well we now have a title: I’ve gone with Before the Sirocco. It’s a lovely evocative title, and I think does a good job of catching the mood of the poems. So many this year are … well, almost despairing. Sad, angry, regretful, passionate, rueful. Appropriate poems for a planet in trouble? Nothing overtly greenie, or eco-centric. Just an underlying mood.
Or maybe that’s just me?