Young green

At a training course today, excellently facilitated by a lady from Caerphilly. She spoke with super-relaxed Welsh delivery, wry and dry, softly lilting.

An unusual place to meet two of your neighbours. Something you only discovered on seeing one of them get out of her car outside your front door just as you arrived home in the afternoon sunshine.

The park, for the walk home, was dotted with knots of people soaking up the sun, licking ice creams, baring pallid limbs and torsos. Feeling reckless, you pulled off the woollen v-neck and rolled up your shirtsleeves.


The treeline

beyond the playing fields a froth

of young green

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