I Say That We Are Wound With

I Find Myself Both As Man And As Myself Something More Determined And Distinctive, At Pitch, More Distinctive And Higher Pitched Than Anything Else I See.

And The Headbonny Ash That Sits Over The Burn. What Would The World Be, Once Bereft Of Wet And Of Wildness? Let Them Be Left, O Let Them Be Left, Wildness And Wet: Long Live The Weeds And The Wilderness Yet.

As Kingfishers Catch Fire, Dragonflies Draw Flame

Elected Silence, Sing To Me And Beat Upon My Whorlèd Ear, Pipe Me To Pastures Still And Be The Music That I Care To Hear.

I Do Not Think I Have Ever Seen Anything More Beautiful Than The Bluebell I Have Been Looking At. I Know The Beauty Of Our Lord By It.