“Once we’ve parted ways and I’ve set off around the fields, trying not to notice the stakes hammered in around the perimeters of both fields, I feel the jolt of reality. To walk here wouldn’t be possible for much longer – once the fence was up, it was up. It wouldn’t be coming down again. Each fence post suddenly feels like a line drawn in the sand.”

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“This morning I circled the sloping woodland,
its gaping mine shafts, fly-tipped and ivy strangled,
the chimney on its perch, rook-claimed and crumbling.”

A collection of poems about memory identity and belonging, inspired by the rugged beauty of West Devon.

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