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Keep your face to the sunshine
and shadows will fall behind you. -- Walt Whitman

Northumberland by Harry Clarke

These swoops of boulder
and stiles and wild
hideaway grass
home glimmers and flickers
of twisty old scribesmen.

Mountainous figures
clamber over shadows
to the wooze of vowels,
filling gaps between fences
crashed over by Bunting.

Startling murmurations
whip whirlpools of seed,
piped into reels, jigged
from sunrays, caught up
in the riever’s song.

Where the rhythm and skirl
toe dance in season;
and clouds lift their skirts,
spinning past over skies,
landing on a canvas of stars.

The Linnets Wings