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 Noah . . . sent forth a raven; and it went to and fro until the waters were dried up from the earth. —Genesis 8:6−7 [In the new age] Noah was the first tiller of the soil. —Genesis 9:20 He loosed the window latch And then he loosened me, My grim cavort The first report, Now made belatedly. From gopher-wood and thatch I plied by eye and wing The ruffled weather, Wave and feather, Black froth the sea-winds fling. Yet there was nothing there But fountains of the deep And heaven’s wells Washing great swells Of salt the drowning weep. Then hunting everywhere Below a rounding moon I felt my screech Grow Eden-speech We shared in that long noon Whose fallen silent leaves With Adam’s clacking bones Are swept through seas My singing frees From brine’s dumb undertones. And though a dove retrieves From olives on the heights After Katrina Noah’s Raven  Her leaf and lands In Noah’s hands To coo away wild frights And though she be the high Meek queen of that new realm Of peace and love, The Holy Dove No flood will overwhelm, By foaming star tides I Still fly unsounded ground That only sweat Makes fertile yet, This raven-dark profound. ...

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