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October 13, 2018


Fulsome, this final summer
moon, setting at sunrise.

Silver platter – cool as sliced
cucumber in a picnic Pimms.

Nostalgia wells with September
mists, sculling down the Exe –

Keatsian, mellow, with a pinch
of frost on promise. Turning

circles is cosmic; and daily.

From → Uncategorized

  1. Hi Becky, hope you’ve been well. This is such simple glory. I can only think in crepusculars, and whisper Yes.

    • Lovely to see you here Brendon and thank you fulsomely for your kind comment! Poetry very much on the back burner, but just occasionally have a flash of something!

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