Got things you remember from the past which still live with you?

People?

Places?

This is a song for the broken, penned by voices from the past, carried to you on the dying gusts of the great storm of 1987.

This is a hymn to disintegration sung in the misty moonlight of a summer night; in the seeping sloth of a foggy September morning.

Come back, come back to the past, when you were young.

Meet again the predators and killers.

Come back, come back to where lonely birds sing before dawn: where your face looks back from a darkened pane.

Come back, come back again. 

A series of narrative, interconnected poems, The Rainy Season describes one soul's attempt to free itself from the constraints of normal life. 

Away from all distractions and routine, what remains? 

Only everything, good and bad, all enveloped in a steady curtain of ever-falling rain. 

These are poems for all ages about a family who are sent to a place of diamond seas, of jewelled beaches and shiny rain. 

They’re asked to grab what they can and then fly home again. 

Join them if you want and see how it goes on this fascinating mission so far from home.