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LLANBADRIG

Shipwrecked on his way to Ireland, the saint

was washed ashore to the foot of the cliff:

founded the church we walk uphill towards

between hedgerows of honeysuckle

and meadowsweet. The church squares to the wind.

A cemetery of slate edges the cliff.

We look down. A seal bobs by the lobster pots.

© Copyright David Selzer
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