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And there I was
Complaining
about the strength of the wind
It being the end of May
And all,
And then I noticed
The lustrous leaves
Of my moorland oak
Reaching out to me
As if to say
We've been through worse
Together
I'm inspired
By the tenacity of tree
And the spirit
Of the heart of oak.
The Curlew calls
Her treasures home
And I fly
With the Swallows.

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