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FROM THE LAKES to my mother An hour beyond where you are tethered to your illness, your halter monitor taunting you with heights you'd love to climb, your granddaughters are free to roam, though one prefers the dark cave of her teens to Beatrix Potter's beck or the Old Man's call. We'll walk to Coniston Water: Swallows and Amazons, the Campbells, the tip of my boyhood, Bluebird flipping to a blank and silent B-side. "Tomorrow, just you wait and see" "Winds of ...