A word is a small mystery and ‘All written work’, Jane Hirshfield tells us, ‘retains some trace, however faint of [the] initial sanctity of the Word.’³³ Celebration of this sanctity or, as Hopkins has it, the inscape of a word, is a hallmark of lyrical poetry and one of the things that draws me to the reading and writing of poetry. In a world dominated by abbreviated communication, by purpose-driven language and weasel words, poetry remains a domain where language’s rich tradition can be feted.

I have been exploring language and how it is transformed into the art we call poetry for more than a decade. My partner, Julian Bailey, coming from a different tradition, also loves the sanctity of the word. He is a singer and teacher of singers, and talks of the sacred contract between the original articulation of sound and its embedded emotion. My awareness of the role and impact of vowels and consonants has been sharpened by long conversations with Julian about his unique method of singing training, bouncing off fascinating related ideas he has developed about emotion and the function of vowels and consonants in singing, alongside the observations of other theorists.