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From Meadow Rue From meadow rue to seven rocks You'll find a path to the rippled mud High tide floods over. Fractions of ringed rock invert to divide The spills and splashes of sky. A place at this emerging line Will drown twice daily And rise into landscape when the tide ebbs And flash what may be signals. From one day to the next, aware Of here-to-there from rue to rock We shout our thesis of amazement. Our footfall hurried out in dotted lines, Our words flashing back and forth. Over the flags of the salt meadow We shout of territory and landmarks. Who would recall How way back in some forlorn time We left the tide to have a look at it, Exiling ourselves forever among dry craters In the dry uneven wind. 10/70