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Thursday 1 September 2016

Country Life

The bacon sizzles, into a crispy state
My nostrils are bathed in the aroma
Of frying fat, of frying pig

There are voices on the radio
Snippets of conversation from
The year just gone

Peter, whilst cooking
Talks about
The Venice Biennale

Then shows me his photographs
Of the local ‘shoot’
Such atmospheric beauty

Ploughed fields, long grasses
Wellington boots, long-guns, magazines
And the innocence of children

For them it is the first time
For me it is the latest time
For you it is the only time


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