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A Hundred Gourds 2:4 September 2013
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page 6  

Ellen Compton - USA


High Places


The body protests and breath comes short, but he urges me on so I scramble the last few yards to the top, aches and all. And the world rolls out before me. On a shoulder of the slope below, a small pond mirrors the blue of a cloudless sky. In the distance a river winds its way over a grassy plain, then is lost in the far hills. At length I drop my walking stick and bring out the sandwiches. He fills my cup. Together we follow the downward circles of a hunting hawk.

rippling breeze
wild berries
in my lemonade



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