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A glance at the sitting room floor this morning
set me chasing shadows, there;
across the kitchen table
on the patio;
along the Gazebo Path;
beside the Cryptomeria Bed;
across the grass;
beside the outlet for the heating system steam;
along the Head Gardener’s Walk,
and the Brick Path.
Normally I work hard to exclude my own shadow, but it wouldn’t go away.
Late this afternoon we drove out to Mudeford, where
the Isle of Wight and The Needles benefited from the clear light,
as did holiday homes and beach huts.
Two gentlemen wheeled their boat onto dry land.
Distant rain clouds released their precipitation,
while those over the harbour displayed silver linings.
We motored on into the forest. Sheep in a field alongside Snails Lane, Ringwood, basked in the last rays of the sun.
By the time we reached Abbotswell
dusk had arrived
bringing a pink trim
to soft mink clouds.
This evening we dined on succulent pork chops served with tasty Lincolnshire pork sausages on a bed of mushrooms, peppers, and mushrooms; cauliflower in cheese sauce; mashed potato and swede; and green beans. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the malbec.