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True Sign He was the first of all of them in his Sunday school class to memorize the "Lord's Prayer," the first to mumble, go to Hell, as he slumped in a pew beside his mother. He knew it wasn't right, all of this combing his hair, tucking in his shirt tail, saving his dimes for the collection plate, getting down upon his knees to pray. So he would lie on his back in the summer grass of late Sunday morning and he would watch the sky for a true sign, a hawk arching toward the Sun, loosing a feather, floating falling, to land upon his bare brown chest. 7 • ...

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