Ruairi In a warm air breeze, the spoon mobile tinkles. Ruairi drinks from rain-water puddles. On the beach, a heron, in sea-drenched Tai ‘chi pose. There is sand on Ruairi’s nose. Clouds dash. Swallows dive. Wind gathers leaves. Ruairi follows the scent before sleep. In the dark filled quiet of the star shining night, the falling comes, in a dream-filled deep.



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