Crows tie nots in the air, cawing for each other.
Daffodils stare longingly for the rare bumble bee, yellowing every day.
The house bricks are melding closer together and cars are driving in pairs.
On the bus people sit apart but lean towards one another.
Then in town every advert is provocative.
All the signs spell SEX.
The church spire is particularly erect.
I walk through the tunnel and out the other side.
Even the concrete is bursting with life.
The vehicles in the car park squeeze tightly in their spaces.
The breakfast baguette leaves pleasure on their faces.
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