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Sunday, 25 September 2011


Shin-deep in autumn leaves,
we took the riverside path, 
a slimey run of various browns,
to the angry rush of water called the Strid,
so-called because it's a stride wide
from slippy rock to slippy rock
a tempting dare for the brave and the stupid,
a jump that ends in cheers
or ends in tears, 
success by the skin of your teeth
or lost forever in the chasm beneath.

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