Sunday, 5 July 2015

Sipping Ossian ...



Four gentle drunks stood before the bar of the Templehall Inn - 

They were sipping Ossian - 

They spoke, very carefully, in slurred languorous sentences - 

He lived just down the road one of them said - he never spoke a word to me for years - 

We'd just arrived - we'd walked ten miles through dark woods and fields of ripening barley - 

Huge clouds had filled the sky - we'd heard skylarks singing -

We saw one, high above a billowing field - 

The ancient wind blew against our sunburnt faces - 


18.30
Saturday 4 July 2015

Templehall Inn
Morebattle




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