MY NEIGHBORS FIELD 



Stumps of them along the streamsidjeshaw, 

 and it would seem their secret purpose 

 to regain their old footing. Now and 

 then some seedling escapes the devastating 

 sheep a rod or two down-stream. Since I 

 came to live by the field one of these has 

 tiptoed above the gully of the creek, beck- 

 oning the procession from the hills, as if 

 in fact they would make back toward that 

 skyward-pointing finger of granite on the 

 opposite range, from which, according to 

 the legend, when they were bad Indians 

 and it a great chief, they ran away. This 

 year the summer floods brought the round, 

 brown, fruitful cones to my very door, and . 

 I look, if I live long enough, to see them 

 come up greenly in my neighbor's field. 



It is interesting to watch this retaking/ 

 of old ground by the wild plants, banished y 

 by human use. Since Naboth drew his' 

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