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Rose Lennard

Discarded crisp pack skitters end-over-end

before me along the pavement,

gape-mouthed as a basking shark.


                                   And I recall

the thrill as those two fins,

tail and dorsal maybe a metre between,

parted the water beside our kayak;


later that day, mackerel shoals strobed

silver and dark beneath us, and the sea

seemed to quiver in delight,


the way my love’s skin would shiver then

beneath my lightest caress.


And the breeze calms

to the slightest zephyr, the glittering

bag drifts gently in its eddy


to rest in a backwater of leaves

and urban litter, both insignificant

and miraculous in this moment.

Early photos of Rose show her up to her chin in daisies, and fifty-odd years later, not much has changed. She has been published widely online and in print, includingThe Phare, Stand, Poetry Village, Atrium, SnakeskinandThe Lake, and shortlisted for competitions including Gloucestershire Writers’ Network, Gloucestershire Poetry Society competitions and the Laurie Lee prize.

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