My Diary: Utter Rubbish Inside A Sand Clock

An early trip to the one eyed countryside with a cloud descending over Sidbury Hill reminding me of a girl wearing a Dreadnought Class battleship for a hula skirt.‭ ‬I found a Friesian cow inside a plastic tent and then conjured up a field of sickle holding arms being harvested by a bundle of wheat.‭ ‬I met the king of the sheaves in his hillside cavern and we talked of the future as if it was the past.‭ ‬After a breakfast I read instead of ate,‭ ‬I stooped in a splinter of garden while spearlike clouds scurried overhead.‭ ‬The sun checked its watch as I missed my connection on my serpentine return journey.‭ ‬I met some old friends by the side of the half way road‭; ‬Dawn spoke at midday and we talked of the summer as if it was a set of numbers:‭ ‬starting odd and ending even.


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