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Alone at Lunt meadow



United Kingdom

Lunt meadow is wasteland reclaimed and turned into a wildlife area; on this day I walked for an hour and never saw a soul… enjoyed the selfish beauty of solitude. The meadows are left to run wild but have a woodland section and many artificial lakes have been created for waterfowl. It is my haven; a place where I walk and grow closer to my ‘self’. The dedication ‘for LL’ is for the colleague and friend who first introduced me to the place.


intense -eyes- -beak- -claws- -feathers- hover above on a blue lake tethered to a point in time as stranded cloud wisps – while far below myriad crowds of silhouettes and colours cradling pollock-blocks of -blues- -purples- -gold- -vermillion- sway hypnotically in rhythmic dance on their -lime- -Chartreuse- -jade- -avocado- canvas garrisoned as batons of bold braided bull-rush conduct an ensemble of crickets and katydids to attend the plump lush ripe bees heavy with pollen-sacks ‘coptering from flower-to-flower circumnavigating slender blue-gold metallic dragonflies – the air tastes sweet as clover-honey alone at Lunt meadow and if this is part of the beautiful accident it is still quite sane today to see how some would presume to believe other


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Alan Corkish

Senior editor at erbacce-press.com and one-time psychologist working within the NHS with a Crisis Team. Dr. Corkish (BA MA MSc PhD) comes from a solidly working-class background having worked variously as a building worker, stoker on a steam-ship, dock-labourer, farm hand, street-sweeper and at various manual-occupations. His published work includes three perfect bound poetry collections...

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