The Stand By a Tree

The Stand By a Tree No matter how I shall go in the wheel and dip of a last spiraling vision, no matter where or when light burns down to a bead or explodes into white or which way the wind tilts taking my breath, no matter how or with what or by whom my body's drawn or how far or how long, I shall again find this green leaf, this sycamore fork, these lullabying branches where the tree, the nest, the bird, and the egg are but four ways of being the same thing. —Steven R. Cope 62 -s» Alf- -i/,Sa" -tf säf ití VSWr",.. ...... ,^?: til; e???? ?» *&K!i liÉU SiA Wis! mWÊ'M Xs&!&¡?? :imtü X-hMñ-i 63 ...