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Another fairy poem, another playful meditation, on naturalism, metre, and identity. If you like William Blake, the intimate works of Keats and the fairy wonder of early Yeats, you may like this and others to come…


Somewhere in the forest
There grows a golden tree
That very special something
Which very few can see
Some say it carries knowledge
Some say it carries leaves
I know not where to find it
Yet hope one day to see
For then I’ll be quite happy
As much as bees can be
Buzzing through the forest
In search of what made me.

Somewhere in the Garden final B

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