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47 On the Little Juniata River The river makes a sound at night that you almost don’t want to hear: nearly imperceptible lap of current that drifts upward into heavy branches and then up farther into night sky. It may take you with it if you’re not careful and you call to spirits even accidentally. This is where I’ve been, the river says at night, and makes a blue picture in moonlight on its surface, of what’s waiting, then is gone. ...

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