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