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My colleague Angela Cummings, constantly amazes and surprises me by finding poems from my early work that I have almost completely forgotten. I can tell from the language, that, as well as the felt pain and poignancy of losing my grandfather, I was reading a great deal of Pablo Neruda at the time. I have put my hand on the shoulder of my younger self by revising the last lines, in order to go a little deeper than I was able at the time. The original lines were ... 'lightly now/ the rain is falling on the fields/ into silence'. DW

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I read this just last night…

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Doubly amazed... poems do have a life of their own once they are written and out in the world ...DW

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The photograph carries the austerity of the winter landscapes of Yorkshire. The isolated farmhouses, with their few surrounding trees, keeping the moorland at bay, carrying families and their animals through one century to another. The racing skies, and almost as if I can hear them, the mewling of sheep in the fields about the house. DW

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For those interested here is David Whyte reading his essay on Silence, found in the waking up app. I found it a nice addition building on the ending of this poem…I don’t think this one is in Consolations, perhaps it will be in Consolations II…

https://dynamic.wakingup.com/course/CF42C6?source=content%20share&share_id=0F52B6C4&pack=PKC31CB&code=SC18CB175

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How precious are our grandparents? - Very!

They take us back in time to all three true stories of out inheritance and how we came to be who we are. God Bless.

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I love this too

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I love this, David. Thank you.

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