Nature’s way

It’s the pull of it.
The Green Land.
The land of strange tounge and old sayings.

A place where only you
can be the only one
For a million rolling hills. 

Where shadow play
turns the view,
And stone and slate and sweat. 

Wild,
whipped low with wind and the
raw clean fresh of it.

It’s the pull,
The green,
The you, the only you
Raw and wild and free.

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