… a world of birds and ponds, br this world br of camphor-scented glades, a new one br in morning flames beyond each one br my soul comes and inquires within, br br one with showers of light spotting the sea’s nameless floors, br nameless glades, full of chatter, br colored roots, great cats loping in retreat, br big-eyed dogs licking and shameless, br br and never the solitaire hand of money-making, br the forcing plow before the money-shire, br the clink of scheming, the cuss of sweat, br br but a world that washes, cools, christens with scent, br a world of life farmed with the seeds of death, br a world that refreshes the music I had thought was psalms …br br Edward Wright Hailebr br