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Poetry
Woodland walk
By william
23 September 2006
I wrote this on a splendid wooded walk.



Life and death that link in moss and trees
The breeze my life left bare no care out there
To talk is not my role or goal. bracken
Rains may come no. slow or grow. blackberries

Heather and gorse no remorse for where we are lay bare
The shuffle of the woodland hen and snuffling pig
worm may reach the surface of the earth but never feel air

Caress me mother. I am dying now but you may please the birds with hope.

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