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  • I stood on an Erraid hill,
    attuned to ancient times;
    sensing the continuum
    of island life from the first
    sheep herders. For a city
    dweller it was a thrill when
    the signal “move forward”
    came from the valley below.

    Hurrying, scrambling;
    feeling the sun and wind
    upon my face; tripping
    on the clumps of grass and
    rocks; squelching in the bogs;
    brambles catching my clothes;
    weaving round wild flowers
    adrenalin pumping,
    I found a stray sheep and
    laughing I coaxed it from
    meditating on a
    rock, and herded it
    towards the blue, green sea;
    north of the tiny island.
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