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BEGINNING The moon drops one or two feathers into the field. The dark wheat listens. Be still. Now. There they are, the moon's young,trying 1heir wings. Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone Wholly, into the air. I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe Or move. I listen. The wheat leans baek toward its own darkness, And I lean toward mine. 39 ...

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