#Poem Newgale

Clouds follow us. Solemn oil tankers turn slowly in a bay
the size of London. Masses of sunlight sparkles on the water;
angel-light. Sometimes the wind gets my neck; drives the moisture
from my tonsils. Sometimes the swallows swish so close – like flies.

A mixed bag of weather today.
I’m still tired from yesterday’s hike;
my legs drained; doing robot.
It’s my last day here for a while;
saying goodbye;
missing you already;
trying not to think of home.


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