recognition

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The oystercatcher furtling about in the
mudbanks is silent and focused and the
butterfly and the lizard make no sound
that can be heard above the clank of mast
cables and the gentle river flow beside
which we’re absorbed in Ouest France
and our books into which pine needles
twirl – until the urgent tap-tap-tapping
of the woodpecker we’d forgotten we
met last year raises two smiling pairs of
eyebrows

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One thought on “recognition

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