The earth, it still is turning…

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One of my favourite of Chris’s poems. I hope the pottery piece does it justice. Such hope.


I know longer know where swallows go in winter

Or where the wind blows

I look and seldom see the flicker of fading northern light

and now the sky is sleeping

In a nook of last year’s leaves something soft is stirring

What lies dark will find the light

The earth it is still turning.

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