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| August 2001 / Volume Two / Issue Two | ||||||||||
| Alice Cone | ||||||||||
| In The Space Of Time I did not expect this time to spread out like a prairie, like a long breath of prayer that whispers across acres of soft, yellow grasses. I expected this time to stop like a backyard garden, beds of alyssum secreted by low, stone walls. Now I am stunned by this space, all this green light, mysterious flickers just above the horizon. I hear chirrups and cricketing, rustling in leaves. Can you tell me what they mean? I admit the untold world scares me. Just believe I am grateful I was given enough hours to gain the open country where I have come to love you. |
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