Every leaf shakes the light again,
begins to talk...
Cicadas
have found
their August voice.
Surprisingly lightly
everyone lets go:
ripe now, all we've
sung into being
since before the leaves...
-Megan Chaskey (1994)
I am not bound for any public place, but for ground of my own where I have planted vines and orchard trees, and in the heat of the day climbed up into the healing shadow of the woods. - Wendell Berry
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