What last broke against leaf, under leaf-bearing mind? So little disturbs the sea by comparison. Do you mind? Finding a reflected mountain is really a shadow, a tree is beneath its color, the shore a mirage. A real boat in imaginary water. Yellow fall, green gilled. Trees have the only real land-legs. Consider our end. The lights are dry in daylight, up in the dipper, the Hammer, scorpion, the Hurricane. The kid's fire is hidden, underneath. To crawl out from under. It's dirt. Don't win. Don't put it out.

 

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