Astride the tri-humped Ghymly

I rode the Widgeon Flat

and tumbled down its windswept hill

to fan the sweating Billawat

the drying droplets crystal clear

hit the sands of dime and dust

exhuming humid threads of steel

weaving roads of silken rust   

and so I travelled sight unseen

the Ghymlys’ tread was mute

and by the shores of Kodlawudg

I saw the rolling ...

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