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written in the dirt
this autumn morning
winter’s aperitif
is served on the rocks
shaken and stirring
come downpour now
unleash your jotting scribe and
cast the showery runes of fables untried
forge scripts along our droughty lanes
of songs for all that yet remain
or wash away those pages brown,
whelm witness to our temporal sway
we’ll listen to the eager eart...
Thursday 5th September 2013 9:58 pm
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