Out on the edges, passed the fences and hedges, passed the end of the line where the train loops the track
Where the sounds of machines, of the cities and means of survival and restlessness cease and desist, passed the last booted footprint, the shod and the softened where the dense and the wide open prairie are laid
Through this will we wander to mountains and seas, picking the fruit of the ground and the trees, to bear the cold winds or stick to the shade, to adapt once again to what nature is made
Then hardened and flexible, cat sleek and tight… then we’ll work
To know our smells, the Fox from the Hare
To read the seventeen clouds
