If they're always reticent to believe
There is gasoline on the crest of the hill
What will straining lines of five years deign to leave
As the tissues are broken down & the flame burns the will

Writ in edges, made amends it hums a single note to me
Burrs on clothing & a heat stroke of desiring still
Clear the brush & flora to ascend to plant an apple tree
& what the deer don't get, the rabbits surely will