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Devon Cream Tease

June 11, 2017



We glide this slow afternoon, fingers
relaxed with each other, stories free-
flowing, easy. The sea behind us, we’re

heading inland, skirting the Otter’s sinuous
course, eyes caught often by a tawny flash –
silver bellies ripple upstream. Trawling.

We walk on, imagine otters at every turn –
stones disappoint, parting the river’s flow.
Inert. But martins swoop our sight-lines,

cruise clouds of midges in the evening’s hush.
Miles from sound-bites, tweets and Question
Time, the State on the Nation is here. Otter-

side, late May. Rooted – not ballot-box-routed.


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