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  • The only thing I can do is walk
    into the deep steadiness of my neighbors' farms.

    If I were to walk into the woods
    I would never come back.


    But here,
    where the wind blows wild and warm and wrong, the sheep graze.
    There
    where politicians waft and waffle and wag, the cows chew.


    We have plundered our home, yet there they are.


    And the birds, swept about, tossed out of their migration paths
    by us,
    settle on the lawn and across the field and in the trees
    and eat.
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