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11 THE SEA CONNECTION Ripples in the sand correspond to waves in the sound, in the wind. I feel the rough-leaved cinquefoils holding me, though my mind soars out with the wind-slanting tern aching to discover the old connection. The fishermen with their rods like antennas are catching slight signals, the mullets and trouts they pull in hold omens in guts. The sea oat stems stand seed-hung from long times of accepting the sea wind curving with it from the breakers inland, roots holding sand against the ocean. Along this line of union, they sift down the blown grains, netting underground, arising along the slopes they have made, in shapes like the whale backs as large as dunes far out, that few living here have seen— bodies emerging from the body of ocean spouting spume in their surfacing breathing as they learned when inland. ...

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