Sunday 27th July



Between early fields I met a bronzed & muscular man,
walking a small ginger dog. In his hand a sturdy
walking stick, raised to the sky, on which he’d drawn
a crude circle.
“Look, a flattened snake!” he smiled, swinging it
in my direction as the small ginger dog sniffed
excitedly in the grass at the edge of the road.
“Nice” I smiled back, noticing he was dressed in
black & braces, head a perfect dome, uncovered in
the sun & when I looked, I saw, though he was old,
his eyes were young.


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