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At dawn the spouts rise into light I slip over the side of the boat — Now they come closer, my face buffeted by swirling wrack I relax I hear the eerie wail of mother and child slowly roll to me wide flukes bending furling — I am weary of walking this land, bitterly breathing air of mountain and wilderness — If I flow through all the seas mingling with the herds as they graze in clouds of plankton will I be washed clean as I was before I lifted myself up in pride out of the grass defiance of gravity stiffening my backbone —
