Windy May Walk

Wind roars, grasping. Moans
ripping green silk, torn beech
trees shudder, resist.

Blown about. It is weeks
since I walked here. The way
green where once was grey.

Unexpectedly
oystercatchers call loudly
landing on a roof.

Black and white delight.
Shrill out of place miracles
of joyful welcome.

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