MINSTREL WEATHER *$ CHAPTER 

 XVI. THE BROWN FRONTIER <$ 



IE warm March noon a 

 hushing wing is lifted from 

 the piping nest of earth. 

 Voices of forest floor, tree 

 trunk, and lowground break 

 f orth,Jnever to be silent again until Thanks- 

 giving weather finds a muted world. 

 Croon and murmur from the swaying 

 grasses, brief lyrics from the top of the 

 thorn, a sunrise chant from the bee tree, 

 rise and fall through all the hours of dew 

 and light, intense in the sun-rusted fields, 

 climbing to an ecstatic swan song when 

 frosts hover close. Whoever walks through 



middle realms of the woods, never lying 

 [90] 



