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Midi
Les Murray
Muscles and torsoes of cloud
ascended over the mountains.
The fields looked like high speed
so new-mown was the hay,
then the dark blue Italian lavender
met overhead, a strange maize
deeply planted as mass javelins
in the hoed floor of the land.
as others machined stiffly over us
and we turned, enchanted
in sweet walling breath
under far-up gables of the lavender.
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