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                           I turned from pegging
                           swung the washing line to the direction the sun
                           would be later

                           between the travelling clouds
                           above the trees
                           down the avenue of gardens

                           in the upwards distance
                           conglomerations of cloud
                           as big as towns

                           move detached but regulated
                           with dark bellies obscene in their drag
                           and load

                           and the wisps dissolving
                           from within to with out
                           and in the even higher distance revealed

                           a column like a mushroom cloud
                           leaning and not drifting
                                                                 drifting nevertheless

                           all scene better – in layer
                           and contexts – when the sun is blocked by a cloud awhile but undeniably there
                           all along the blue sky





blue & sky & trees wormhole: the continental stride of trains
clouds & passing wormhole: ‘passing overhead …’
garden wormhole: Exceat to Cuckmere Haven
sun & time wormhole: sooner or later
travelling wormhole: birthday poem