“Just a minute,” said a voice … “Just a minute,” said a voice in the weeds. So I stood still in the day’s exquisite early morning light and so I didn’t crush with my great feet any small or unusual thing just happening to pass by where I was passing by on my way to the blueberry fields, and maybe it was the toad and maybe it was the June beetle and maybe it was the pink and tender worm who does his work without limbs or eyes and does it well or maybe it was the walking stick, still frail and walking humbly by, looking for a tree, or maybe, like Blake’s wondrous meeting, it was the elves,
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