Earth and air are moist and cold, but flooded with light. Woodsmoke and the smell of fresh-turned earth, as tractors with great bladed ploughs dance ponderously.
A flock of lapwings.
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Up the road or down, sometimes further afield, often not for long, we're out most days.
1 comment:
This post has a haiku feel about it, the way it flows - perhaps because, mostly, the last line.
Regardless, it is lovely and evocative. Thank you, Lucy.
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