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Feet
In the October fireglens, hardwoods spoof the cedar by dying more brightly not caring in their quickness that they corroborate the softness of cedar bark, the dust-green planings of bark the old cedars have: instruction for the man too much ensconced in sight, in what feet know and next his hands: last, the softness is inched up years of yellow-reds the cedar catches and drops back down the wind slide.