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Date Written: September 20, 2017
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The day is like glass. Bright, hard and clear as we walk

sunlit

through loamy fields behind our house

 

What riches have I! speaks the fool, while the wise woman knows

she has nothing

but now.

 

Dark earth rises in welts like waves

ploughed into chaos, as spiders gild with their silk

shimmering low in the still air, as if threads

will pull the ground back together under our feet

 

She walks, head on into this sea

laughing at life, how it rolls on

stepping, leaping, running away over sure peaks

whilst I

am the one who drowns sweet grief

as I watch a childhood pass.

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