Yara, Kingsland, on the escapade
Through the knuckled arches
Of the walled arcade
Munching on the Myrtle of a Thrush
in pale pose
Purring in the nettles
Cooking on the rose
Succoured and suckled,
Adroit to unknown sun
In the French dressed Troubadour
Letting off steam
Sheep in folds
Folder deep
In the paper leafed field
Roman numerals of chicken runs
Pertinent permanence of setting suns
Leaving behind like nuns
Of to find a wedding
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