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Easterly
Bright and strong
A wall of wind
Twisting the green-brown leaves
Along the track
in little spirals
A Buzzard traces circles
Over the noisy wood
Everything's turning.
Neither here nor there
Somewhere in between.
The Ash is
silver-singing
A stream in spate
The sycamore, roaring
Like the ocean, rolling.
The mighty beech
Tinkling like pebbles
Hushing on a shingled shore
A different music
In every tree.

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