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Most of a moon hung, limpid, in complete blackness.

Night breezes of summer totally shake a plenitude of

leaves. Wave swirls of this sound follow. Shadows of

small oaks and firs are fixed, sharply outlined against the

grass's gray luminescence. The distant doppler of the

highway not out of place. Noble trucks are the large,

large tables of the hand, and headlights a radiant flux,

kinetic as rayon.

Behind the earth's ribs the shining would be a town.

Heartbeat refrain of iron wheels on rails and lonely train

whistle coming to a crossing echo off junked cars, rus-

tling weeds, silent roads. The creek mumbles over its

rocks, under the old stone trestle. The planet's night is

endless, in all directions immense, terrestrial, worldwide.