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Put your head above
the ridge, put your head above the chimney... Tall, big
trees around, green curtain. You can’t see herons
shrieking far away at the wood... Are they herons or
maybe fallen witches who once used to land, herds of
them, on the bald tops of these gently rounded small
mountains which remember so well the Precambrian
pre-ocean the hags knew nothing about?  |