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Articles
Postcard: The Swans at the Royal Botanic Gardens
“But are they sad?” I overheard her say.No more than fiveUp North with mum for the August bank holiday.I saw what she meant. They hardly seemed aliveCompared with, overhead,...
Ordinary Time
The tang of juniper, the dew-wet grassThat grabs your ankles, apples for the taking.The haze between the hills like smoke at Mass. The trees; His stretched...
