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Wind

Wind by James Fenton (b. 1949) 'This is the wind, the wind in a field of corn. Great crowds are fleeing from a major disaster Down the long valleys, the green swaying wadis, Down through the beautiful catastrophe of wind. Families, tribes, nation and their livestock Have heard something, seen something. An expectation Or a gigantic misunderstanding has swept over the hilltop Bending the ear of the hedgerow with stories of fire and sword. I saw a thousand years pass in two seconds. Land was lost, languages rose and divided. This lord went east and found safety. His brother sought Africa and a dish of aloes. Centuries, minutes later, one might ask How the hilt of a sword wandered so far from the smithy. And somewhere they will sing: 'Like chaff we were borne In the wind'. This is the wind in a field of corn.' By permission of Peters Fraser & Dunlop from The Memory of War and Children in Exile (Penguin)

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