Sometimes the wait is worth it; I was fortunate to be able to take my time, most are not so lucky.

In the spirit of spring cleaning I collected together my past writings, that is in their physical manifestation, for the computer database of my work is not yet anywhere near a useful realisation.

In and among I found a booklet which also contained addresses for potential employment; I must have sent out dozens of CV’s before landing my dream job at Watercombe on Dartmoor.

Sometimes the wait is worth it; I was fortunate to be able to take my time, most are not so lucky. The small spiral wrapped notepad was a gift from Sarah, who now lives in Thailand; how times change.

Watercombe In The Mirror

That late May afternoon
Twenty-six years or more ago
I climbed the five bar gate
Walked two thousand metres

Over the pipeline

I kicked stones down to the river
Whistled to the sheep
Who appeared to be reasonably settled

By the trout pass I took off my boots
Dangled my feet into the water
My laughter trapped in the bowl
Of the wrapped around hillside

Only now the laughter

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About christopheratcoastmoor

Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by.
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