The brown mountain of two weeks ago is now astonishingly green. Nothing I saw abroad holds a candle to this view, with its scarlet tanager.
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The brown mountain of two weeks ago is now astonishingly green. Nothing I saw abroad holds a candle to this view, with its scarlet tanager.
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Brocade
The brown hill, two weeks gone
is a green mounded garden now.
Hummingbird colors, a brocaded band
boil over on my tender hand.
The man from under hill comes back,
weighs the brilliancy against what’s found
in the scuffle of the day; the bitterness
of coffee nestling home against the throat
against Welsh beer and the singsong
voices of the old islands. And typically
he upsets the scales and invites the spiders
to sit and take such ease
under the eyes of tanager and brewer
as ever they’ve found in their spinning lives.
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Welcome home. We do live in a beautiful part of the world, don’t we?
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You bet. Despite the best efforts of the energy companies.
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Welcome back- Kinda cool that you got to see the change all at once…
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Yeah, it’s not when I would’ve preferred to travel, but I certainly couldn’t have picked a better two weeks for dramatic transformations.
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‘Morning, Dave. Nice to reconnect. I loved Morning Porch from day one almost; my first introduction to Twitter. Just want to say thanks.
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Oh, thank you, Sally. That’s very gratifying to hear.