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The Old Birch and the Plants : For Young Children: A Play and a St...

By: Felicity Earnshaw; Thomas Fearnley, Illustrator

With colouring and drawing pages.

Old Birch You must try hard to be your true self. Lily, you can make a sweet scent can't you? With your leaves, I mean.

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The Stranger

By: Felicity Earnshaw; Jacomien Souverijn, Illustrator

Communication among individuals, between the individual and the world around is hemmed in, and one resists the agent that might open it. Again the means come to a person's attention. Another's hurt, injustice, rejection, responded to in a way different from what would be expected assist in an opening, until, at a given point, the prison dissolves.

A scanty sunlight falls through thin slits into the room. Its floor, walls, ceiling—stone, outside no sight of verdure, the dank earth below isolated, the piece of sky above cold, the air around desolate, the voice within untrusted— as the cry of one insane, the heart’s love disconnected by force diminutive ruling wide to raze the link of hope, poke out vision— for there to be none to lead out from deafening lies, beauty—this not— so deep the chasm, so sharp, so final the cut.

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  • Cover Image

The Stranger

By: Felicity Earnshaw; Jacomien Souverijn, Illustrator

Communication among individuals, between the individual and the world around is hemmed in, and one resists the agent that might open it. Again and again, the means come to a person's attention. Another's hurt, injustice, rejection, responded to in a way different from what would be expected assist in an opening, until the prison dissolves.

A scanty sunlight falls through thin slits into the room. Its floor, walls, ceiling—stone, outside no sight of verdure, the dank earth below isolated, the piece of sky above cold, the air around desolate, the voice within untrusted— as the cry of one insane, the heart’s love disconnected by force diminutive ruling wide to raze the link of hope, poke out vision— for there to be none to lead out from deafening lies, beauty—this not— so deep the chasm, so sharp, so final the cut.

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The Glad Woman

By: Felicity Earnshaw

"Tattered, dusty, broken, light as birds, we wander in the rich pansy dark among the stars"—More vital than the roles, here mostly of woman, spoken in the voices of daughters, sons and others, and ranging from scientist, friend, dreamer and peacemaker, to mother, teacher, worker, helper, seeker and listener to spirit, nature and art, the focus is on glints of world peace, not brilliant but shining, not complete but requisite: However tired we may be of the dead end of...

...enter into the process quickly— the swiftly softly pealing notes of long flowing ribbon-in-the-wind scales— sentences in which we move into new realms, and then feel the nudges and booms of adjustment amid deeper structures, as if they applaud those cheerful graceful light-running rapidly graduating songs sung—danced—so perfectly; that youths return after their adventures, tell stories of pure celestial handshakes, brotherly, sisterly embrace of two wh...

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  • Cover Image

The Glad Woman

By: Felicity Earnshaw

"Tattered, dusty, broken, light as birds, we wander in the rich pansy dark among the stars"—More vital than the roles, here mostly of woman, spoken in the voices of daughters, sons and others, and ranging from scientist, friend, dreamer and peacemaker, to mother, teacher, worker, helper, seeker and listener to spirit, nature and art, the focus is on glints of world peace, not brilliant but shining, not complete but requisite: However tired we may be of the dead end of...

...enter into the process quickly— the swiftly softly pealing notes of long flowing ribbon-in-the-wind scales— sentences in which we move into new realms, and then feel the nudges and booms of adjustment amid deeper structures, as if they applaud those cheerful graceful light-running rapidly graduating songs sung—danced—so perfectly; that youths return after their adventures, tell stories of pure celestial handshakes, brotherly, sisterly embrace of two wh...

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