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Vermont Postcard Sunset on Lake Champlain is a blue and sodium-pink affair— something in common with lustreware (though nothing garish—more like a scene by Maxfield Parrish). I’ve come to “commune with nature” but when I see the bell-buoys’ flashing lights flickering like a firefly’s come-on, I know that all I’m really looking for is art. Holsteins rearrange their puzzle pieces patiently, trying to get it right. I can almost taste burst cattails’ last sweet bite like cotton candy. Brown buds perch on the sumac’s branches, stone finches. Old fences squat in ideograms about a private hurt. (Even the woods here know some Robert Frost by heart.) Have I come to sow or come to reap? Don’t know. May there still be many miles before I sleep. 54 You are reading copyrighted material published by Ohio University Press/Swallow Press. Unauthorized posting, copying, or distributing of this work except as permitted under U.S. copyright law is illegal and injures the author and publisher. ...

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