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(C^^S> Two poems byJudith L. Schwab (£^^Ç) ANSWERS Crawl inside your head it's the only place to be, for now, The only safe place. Those tight lipped mountains will tell you all you need to know, when it's too late, when you lie down still as a stone on top of the pasture beneath the cedar tree. So quiet there that you won't need to know what the mountains tell you then in their lonely leafy whispers, their slow rhythmic changes as you consummate your contract with them. Then you'll know just how the stars spin down the creek. Then you'll know how it is beneath the cloven feet of cattle, and how it is with grass and weather, with men and women, and how it is, and how it really is. 79 VIRGINIA TIME In November's evening light a man is crossing the slant of a field headed for a silvered wooden shed with vertical boards, no windows it is a solid piece of weather. His hand reaches for the block of wood that rotates on a nail and secures the door an effective device for closing sheds it moves easily. He will swing the door out and let the little light left from the day into the shed and then he will step up into it and do his piece of work and feel the tilted floor that pitches to the past the smell of sun dried rains papery nests and rust. Then he will leave the shed walk back to his house and continue uncounting his days. <^^3 Judith L. Schwab lives in Norfolk, Virginia. ^^ 80 ...

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