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And the wind pumps its bellows. And at evening especially, the piled firewood shifts a little, longing to be on its way.
Mary Oliver
from
Song for Autumn
Bowling along beneath a deep blue sky, majestic Blencathra quietly overseeing this wonderful part of England’s Northern Lakeland, one is aware of the great ‘presence’ here, accrued by aeons. Hair tousled in the cool breeze of November, I ask that the wind ‘pump’ peace wheresoever peace is needed, in beautiful but war-torn lands, and in millions of still beautiful though war-torn hearts – beneath this wide blue firmament under which, some glad day, all humankind may thrive.
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