Sometimes, it's not the river which runs through. What runs through everything is light. And the absence of. Beyond, another tree patiently defines distance. Fills it with the assurance of an alphabet. For aren't roots, alphabetic. Aren't roots a kind of earth-soup?
Once light is in parenthesis it changes form and patterns...you capture it and it captures you. How the eye can beguile the mind, once lit up with form and color! Fortunate is the lass who realizes this early, and shares her wonder.
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