I couldn't faithfully follow the Poetry School prompt today, to go for a walk and compose something in your head. I wasn't up to going beyond the garden and my short term memory wouldn't allow much in my head.
So this is the start of the garden poem:
Of
course the great and blue tits
teacher and bicycle wheel beyond,
seeking a squeeze in the trees.
Jesse, Jesse, come here, the dog
walker
gets desperate below
the railway footbridge under ...
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