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Blushed Line

Grey trees, sick
blushed with blue, cure
sit unsure, arthritis
on the furrows
———of a charcoal curve.

Pitt black lines,
measured angles,
perhaps by damp,
support this improbability.

The trees waver
Roots exposed
And when the winds blows!

The equation fails
The fibres snap.

Watch where the crows nest,
Not here.
They know the trees will fall,
Down into the hollow,
Where the cows come to drink.

Nutwood revised 2008

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