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by Ravi Shankar

    Between forest and field, a threshold

    like stepping from a cathedral into the street-

    the quality of air alters, an eclipse lifts,

    boundlessness opens, earth itself retextured

    into weeds where woods once were.

    Even planes of motion shift from vertical

    navigation to horizontal quiescence:

    there's a standing invitation to lie back

    as sky's unpredictable theater proceeds.

    Suspended in this ephemeral moment

    after leaving a forest, before entering

    a field, the nature of reality is revealed.

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