I used to be a devourer of books. Novels, non-fiction, and poetry. There were some on the bookshelf, in my childhood home, but not many, and I remember longing for a set of Encyclopedia Brittanica like the ones that graced the bookshelves of my friends' houses. My mother loved to read novels though, and we'd visit the library weekly, returning with a heavy armful.

Since I had my first child 8 years ago, my reading has considerably waned. It's not so much that I haven't got the time (although that is partly true), but more that I don't have the attention span. The sight of me settled with reading material is enough to prompt all sorts of esoteric questions from the children of the house. By the time I switch on the bedside lamp and pick up my latest book, my eyes start to hurt and the words begin to blur on the page. I tend to read the same page over and over each night before falling asleep. It's a sad situation for a person whose childhood pleasures revolved around a fresh stack of books by the bed each week.

I've found another way to consume words, though, and that's through music. I work from home to the sound of National Radio in the background, but give myself two or three hours to listen to other music during the day. I'm only really interested in music with good lyrics, and these I consume with a passion previously reserved for novel reading. Last winter I discovered Joanna Newsom. Have you heard her three-disc album, Have One on Me? Each track is a miniature world. Press play and you'll find yourself in a gold-rush-era theatre watching Lola Montez performing her famous spider-dance. In another you might accompany Dick Turpin on his way to the gallows, after being charged with horse theft, sometime around 1730. Or perhaps you'd prefer to sink into the comfort that is your childhood home, like a spoon into honey.

While it seems criminal to omit mention of the rich melodies in these songs, to me, the imagery sparkles with clarity. 'My heart made the sound of snow falling on eaves.' (You and Me, Bess.) 'Like a bump on a bump on a log' (Good Intentions Paving Company). 'I swung through here like a brace of jackrabbits with their necks all broke.' (Jackrabbits). 'My heart becomes a drunken runt' (In California.)

It's all rather lush poetry, and is fine company these days.

Melissa writes a beautiful, thoughtful blog called Tiny Happy I urge you to have a read. She writes about her life and craft in a quiet, understated way.