There's a place in provenance.
Heavy with sun beams.
A never ending evening warmth.
Dances in the summer days.
Gaelic sounds and garlicky smells.
The air is thick with harvest.
The roads dusty and rough.
Worn out from long summers and sharp winters.
All you can see for miles is the purple haze of lavender flowers.
Friday, 27 January 2012
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