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High on Arctic air
Bliss in the climbing
I fly with the Swifts
Cutting through
this summer chill
With rapid ease
And flickering
With energy
Finding joy in the blue
And the gold
and the silver of it all
Clover sweetens the meadow
In shades of magenta
And high on the hill
A small flock of greylag
Peeps over bright buttercups
And a Curlew descends
And sings her healing song
To my heart.

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