Unhinged
There was a time
when a small shack,
– unused in decades-
stood here, shaking
under a barrage
of wind and hail;
door barely hanging
on by it’s friable
rust devoured
hinges; charged
with the reek
of leaf mould
and rotting hare.
So moved by
the desolation
I vowed to spend
my retirement
ekeing out a living
in the renovated
bothy, content beneath
my hanging valley,
to watch the nearby
island county shine
in winter duskfall.
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