. yesterday we wrote of rags .

another day of vinegar soaked

words.

another play on keys, as we drift

through winter days.

curtains dragged across the gloom,

early, yet while light lingers later,

we wander to the snowdrop drift, hear

the last bird call.

hear the dog at pentre farm, barking.

later hear the water fall from

broken drain pipes.

soon it is february, lighter

nights.

sbm.

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