
Golden,the final flourish under
The billowing stratus cloud,
Captures a Midas touch
As if a net is cast
And the light is flung into space
By an almighty hand,
Blessing the Earth in beauty
As pigeon and dove sit still,
The cows again are silenced
In deepening shades of green
As the wind from the East abates
At the ending of the day.
❤️
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Dear Ruth Glorious words — amazing powerful light over the Moor last night T x
TESSA CLARKE 07774 161741
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