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North Pamet Road

Jana Katz

Two miles of pavement from the bus stop

disappear into a narrow path between wildflowers

and poison ivy,

in a shadow of a hill

with a winding dirt road made of New England soil.

Might as well be cobblestones.

Surrounding trees

curve into stillness,

whittled down

from weathering the salty air.

Towering sandy cliffs,

porcelain fortresses

impose majesty and fragility

on everything beneath.

A mighty current slaps land

where there once was none;

low-lying inclines, washed-out dunes

rest like battle wounds from hurricanes

peppering the coast.

Cresting waves

know only the tide.

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