2019
6.193
12.vii.25
the dragging of the heels
a sheep flow by the River Spey
midge stillness too
day grassed over
a headful of hay in these horses
vanished stream but hear it
flowers of the wild
now summer shining
tufts of sheep here there
barbed fence rubbings
bees attend flower
voices fade from
the path brings a river back
this one is the Calder
warm shallows and quartz inscribed
each stone a world shaped
island at least
speckle stones and glitter too
come dry to rest past the rain
some like eggs
from which burst forth
the lambing ewes as signed
where a sky’s as grey
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