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Thursday, 13 July 2017

St Andrews

I was in search of a quiet place
I found blossom, and hyacinth
On the look out, for room to read aloud
I found the reverential place of silence

There are no notices of what not to do
Yet I am unable to address the work in hand
My conscience, if that is what is at play
Chooses not to disrespect someone else's house

I can hear birds and streams
Sheep, lambs, calves and cows
My warm pee draws a fragrance
From the thorn, the nettle, and the ivy

My instinct, or reflex reaction
Thus breaks over philosophical rigour
On another day I may be more prepared
But for now I take my time elsewhere


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