THE HILL WAS BRIGHT GREEN the crow was darker because the clear light was pale that first breath we took with us uphill was our question closing around and us going through it the crow's air filled our lungs the youth of the pasture underfoot with its age as a wood at the top I was the one with a question when will we get beyond it when we get beyond it we will have the relief of an animal breathing its innocence greenly closing in on our rest we go forward as if it were final there are many who go back too nothing we take seriously because for us it is forward all the time