Cock-crow ’til owl-hoot I toil. Feeding the hens, slopping the pigs, animal-speak my only communication. Long ago I stopped using words with Josiah, morose and silent man. Holding warm udders, I rhythmically pull. Brown eyes thank me. You’re welcome, I whisper back. My only happiness is this, speaking in tongues.

Originally from the Rhondda Valley, South Wales, Chris has lived for fifteen years in the Almanzora Valley, Almeria. She writes about anything and everything. Micro fiction, flash fiction, and poetry are currently favourites. Published internationally in anthologies, print, and online, she is compiling a book of her poetry and believes there has to be a courageous publisher out there!