Part
One
Out we go into the sunshine grass, to the cool carpets
of shade. Out into the sweet blossoms of
lilac. Out against the calm air and the
upright mountain ranges. Out where fat
rivers loll below turn-key clouds. Out
to capture the first lark’s song, to sift warm wind though fingers and hair, to
leap, to dance in wild circles.
Part
Two
We live.
--Mitchell
Hegman
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