Parading

Down Sally Cow Lane and Elsewhere

What if the land had its own language?

of grasslands, groan of mountains,
No alphabet but steady drone
No alphabet but steady drone
of grasslands, groan of mountains,
of grasslands, groan of mountains,
drought-fire's scream—a drawn-out cry, —Alison Hawthorne Deming
drought-fire’s scream—a drawn-out cry,
—Alison Hawthorne Deming

atoms

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