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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 10, Number 3, September 2016

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Lynette Arden
Norwood, South Australia, Australia


Am I Wool?

Am I wool, that's easily squashed, but springs back, or am I felt, that retains the dimple?

Sometimes I think there are two of me, rather like a sheep with felt socks, hat and overcoat. When it rains my felt grows heavy, so heavy, and the dimples of the wet felt press into my wool, which fails to spring back, sodden as it is, in the dark under a wet, felt overcoat. There is nothing as heavy upon wool as a layer of wet felt. The skin under the wool shivers, the eyes in the wool covered face turn toward the least ray of sunshine that might part the storm clouds.

If the clouds part and the sun comes out, it may dry the felt. The wool may spring up and the skin warm and the sheep eyes seek out new viridian blades shooting up from the rich mud.

along the fence wire      a sliver of light

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