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Beyond the Gate

By J. A. Totts / May 21, 1992



The garden gate, unlatched by wind, swings back and forth above the cold-cobbled path, a wooden wing beating back winter. The voices of dark-starred tulips blaze beyond reason, wild soprano sparks shooting skyward. Blue choirs of last year's milkweed stand open-mouthed, all silken songs drifted earthward. Everywhere light rushes like water; rippling amber cadenzas shake the unbloomed roses carried up from winter sleep, the dreams unwrapped petal by astonishing petal. Colors thunder into the eyes, the heartbeats, blinding messages too sharp for tongues - holy words that would set your soul on fire.

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