Skylarks blaring on the moss, and the same old gabble of shelducks at Kirkennan. It’s hellish wet and foul enough to make you heave, but these small nudges send ripples over the pooly land; the otter-mirk and ‘suckle-bud respond.
Ripples
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“Shout on, Morgan. You’ll be nothing tomorrow”
Swn y galon fach yn torri, 1952
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Bog Myrtle & Peat 
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