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Quantock
trees
Trees and the reflections of
trees
Sharp shadows heeled into hedges
Low, winter light lancing the fields
As if a river of grass was flowing up hill.
Timber and memory awakened
Saunter along arm in arm,
As the sun's orchestra sweeps up
Above the kindling ridge.
Caught between branches
A perfect negative, leaves behind
Only itself, a shallow haunting
Dancing, the light fantastic.
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Carnival Girl
One lone girl
And 17,000 light bulbs
Dancing the night away
Up front on the vagabonds cart.
Minutes before the start
An eerie silence
Ahead the waiting crowds
Lining the streets, twenty deep
The November night
A little cold for a bare midriff
Her last job, putting lipstick on the men.
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