Junction

We moved house. We moved with the junk, and the unction, a couple of dozen junctions from the docks to the fens.

And now the little foxes have new dens and the light is less dense and the lens is in focus, at last.

We cycle, recycle, stop. Unbox books. Route, reroute. Gasp at light and promises realised. Commune and breathe. Grace received: community. We belong.

 

 

 

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