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And yet another By Kelley Jean White house of seeds, comb of new light! life waiting for fire to sow ash with greenling twigs each perfect in its armored thorned tight fist-- to be not eaten or crushed or carried-- made to wait--ten years, more, a century for one dry summer, week after hot week without rainfall, thunder, even the mist of dawn grown thinner as if it wearied of making dew drop--in just this weather at last comes the lightning, it strikes the hearts of trees, a forest burning, jumping sparks flames writing wisdom against the heavens-- we cannot read it, but the pine cones know: they explode in heat-seed-new forests grow. |
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Document last modified on: 12/09/2006