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Benedict Williams writes on a July evening in Harewood .......

Poppy dew.

I see ocean waves breaking over you,

I see the tears from clear night skies and the rubies that upon your skin you turn them to.

I see reflected skies in a thousand eyes,

I see your scarlet skin bleeding through,

I see so much magic in this vermilion dew,

I see this but only after the cool night has kissed every part of you.

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