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Mrs. B. again: "I like trees sometimes, but I don't like looking at them
every day."
-- from this dune we can see
the cape as a completeness
to the left the cape headland
darkening as the fog thins toward the crest
the crest spikey and heavy-looking, black
evergreens in the fog pallor,
ocean big and burly along the brown beach
to northward, backed by dunes, then fl ats
with salt grass and bushes and big Sitka spruce,
then the steep green hills, and the rain forest
-- looking inland, late afternoon;
sunlight sloping in under the fogbank at last; through
the bare gray Sitka trunks, over the salmonberry bushes,
you see a logged-off hill with the old stumps
shining -- bright gray in the direct light,
against the ground greenery; how much the hill
overlooking the ocean appears at this distance
like an old-fashioned graveyard, giving off an air
of mild, decorous expectation, with its marble headstones
in various shapes and sizes placed unevenly around in it
-- at a rotting trunk we pause -- I see
you noticing with well open
steady eyes what is to be seen:
in the one place alone
grow various mosses, three kinds of vine,
a mushroom, several smallish plants
with prettily cut leaves, and numerous
pine seedlings, inch-high sprigs;