The Ramble
I follow the track with a spectacular view,
into a wood with its carpet blue.
A winding path to the field below
through an ancient green lane where primroses grow.
I watch a swallow swoop and pass
above a meadow lush with grass.
Quench my thirst in dapple shade
midst waving stalks which seed,then fade.
Homeward I wend in loosestrife knee high
alongside a stream trickled dry.
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