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The Bench
I sit outside the door
on a slate bench
my back against the cottage wall
in the evening sun
listening to a blackbird sing
the most astonishing sweet notes
In front of me
there is elderflower
honeysuckle
buttercups spangle the uncut grass
and the old larch looms in its corner
beyond the ancient stones of Hafod
which mark my plot
The sun has not long returned
...Sunday 24th June 2018 9:22 am
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