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day of stasis and tiredness;
walk out in wind: cool,
clammy, the deer sitting
at ease, the pool empty
of water

up through the woods to the
reservoir, black-faced,
eerie, few birds sing,
peaty-water who knows
how deep,

back down the hill
and along the track home,
fire on, orange
flames of comfort

and hand-made oak
shuttles for my weaving,
oiled with love

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