you speak of grasshoppers,
and fireflies, that sharp scent
of hard and sudden rains –
all the things that do not
set their blessings here,
or rarely do anyway
the impossibility of elsewhere
is no longer a vague notion –
the truth of it rests on my chest –
the spiny, black hull
of a horse chestnut dropped
on a damp and chill morning
© Sarah Whiteley
Where would we be without our surroundings?
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That sounds like a question we would discuss while sitting on the porch after a couple of beers. The sort of question we could find all sorts of meaning in. 🙂
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A couple of beers and some agreeable companions? I’m all up for that! Let’s check our diaries. 🙂
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Beautiful.
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Beautiful, as always.
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Thank you, James! 🙂
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Superb musing, Sarah, love it.
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Thank you! 🙂
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