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Time enough By Alan MacDougall Halfway across Iowa, Omaha before sunset. Whining and complaining the traffic spins off long arcs to disappear. You are tempted to start thumbing again. Sky --agate white, heavy snow soon. Resist the pressure. Go, wander in the tall grass sandy and curled at the top like wood shavings. The hills are soft with it. The breeze is cold and insistent. It comes from far off. Sit down. Play your harmonica awhile. Pick a tune out of the grasses' moaning. Let it snow. Time for that, too. Time for all. |
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Document last modified on: 01/12/2000