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Flights of Respair by Martin Maudsley
The magic spell woven by moths that morning was utterly instant and completely captivating.
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Flotsam by Robin Crawford
Beavers, elk, wild ox, brown bear, lynx and wolf have all been driven from the river.
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Walking the Bride by Kevan Manwaring
Surely, the river belongs to the whole valley and all who love it.
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Snickets by Nic Wilson
Many of the paths are old ways, repositories of long-forgotten stories.
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Feeding the Hungry by Emma Rose Barber
I walk on. In that excited city, there is a group of people queuing to get near the firework display.
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A Field with a View by Jane Ryan
I knew that ownership was one key to the sense of safety that this meadow was offering us.
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Leaf Litter by William Rowlandson
And that is where the pain is. Like a medic in a war, patching up the wounded to patch up the wounded.
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The Man of Blackmore Vale by Jonathan Law
How do we separate the reality of a place, a region, from our private hopes and nostalgias?
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Nature Writing by Jeremy Hughes
You see your childhood in your green-leafed head.
Sticklebacks and newts in a stringed glass jar -
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Watermark by Davina Quinlivan
I stand on the threshold to her flat and watch myself close the door.
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In Pursuit of Today’s Spring by Ned Vessey
It troubles me still, a year later, this state of knowing only through absence.
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Pilgrim by Graham Mort
We shake hands and he walks on uphill, limping slightly, bent against the wind.
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