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Hi!  It’s Candia again.  No, I’ve not been in hibernation, but could

have been excused for refusing to emerge from the duvet, with all

the recent rotten weather.

Went down to Wintonchester today, to soak up some sun and I came

across my old friend: the wistaria growing over the entrance to The

Cathedral Close.  It reminded me of the poem that I wrote nearly

twenty years ago, when I first moved into the area.  I had seen an

engraving of Prior’s Gate in an old book in a charity shop more than

three hundred miles away from the city and the ancient shrub was

featured .  I immediately bought the book and determined that I

would live in the vicinity of such an impressive portal.

That first winter I waited for the gnarled creeper to blossom.  When it

did, I felt that I had come home.

WAITING FOR THE WISTARIA

Waiting weeks for wistaria’s welter

of tendrils, titivating Prior’s Gate,

to flourish its purple helter-skelter

ear-rings.  For Winchester, it seems quite late;

elsewhere trailers blossomed against bright brick

facades, yet soon their petals will be spent.

But this one saves its special party trick

till last-like choice Cana wine, heaven scent.

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