§¨§§§¨¨¨§§                                          ¨¨§¨¨¨§¨§¨
§§§¨¨§¨¨§¨                                          ¨¨§§¨¨§§§§
¨¨¨§¨§§¨§§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨¨¨
¨¨¨§§§¨§§¨                                          ¨§§§§§§§¨¨
¨¨¨§¨¨§§¨§                                          ¨§¨¨¨¨¨¨§¨
¨¨¨§§¨§¨§§ i follow the  tire tracks west.  they go ¨§§¨¨¨¨¨§§
§¨¨§¨§§§§¨ parallel  with the  railroad,  with  its §§¨§¨¨¨¨§¨
§§¨§§§¨¨¨§ endless mirrors looking  kinda oily.  an ¨¨§§§¨¨¨§§
¨¨§§¨¨§¨¨§ incredible power bound there... there's  §¨§¨¨§¨¨§¨
¨¨§¨§¨§§¨§ a wire fence  to separate the two roads. §§§§¨§§¨§§
§¨§§§§§¨§§                                          ¨¨¨¨§§¨§§¨
§§§¨¨¨¨§§¨ even though there's a foggy  quality  to §¨¨¨§¨§§¨§
¨¨¨§¨¨¨§¨§ the air, the path  i  follow is glowing. §§¨¨§§§¨§§
§¨¨§§¨¨§§§ a  yellow-green  moss  has   taken  hold §¨§¨§¨¨§§¨
§§¨§¨§¨§¨¨ where  the  machines   who  made   these ¨§§§§§¨§¨§
¨¨§§§§§§§¨ tracks  once disturbed the clover field. ¨§¨¨¨¨§§§§
§¨§¨¨¨¨¨¨§                                          §§§¨¨¨§¨¨¨
§§§§¨¨¨¨¨§ we're  off  the season  when  the  birds §¨¨§¨¨§§¨¨
§¨¨¨§¨¨¨¨§ sing beautifully.  these days it's  just ¨§¨§§¨§¨§¨
§§¨¨§§¨¨¨§       screeches, or calls for help.      ¨§§§¨§§§§§
¨¨§¨§¨§¨¨§                                          ¨§¨¨§§¨¨¨¨
¨¨§§§§§§¨§ i   think  of   the   jackdaw  i  maimed ¨§§¨§¨§¨¨¨
¨¨§¨¨¨¨¨§§   yesterday. i fear the dreaming gate.   ¨§¨§§§§§¨¨
¨¨§§¨¨¨¨§¨                                          ¨§§§¨¨¨¨§¨
¨¨§¨§¨¨¨§§                                          §§¨¨§¨¨¨§§
§¨§§§§¨¨§¨                                          ¨¨§¨§§¨¨§¨
§§§¨¨¨§¨§§                                          ¨¨§§§¨§¨§§
¨¨¨§¨¨§§§¨                                          ¨¨§¨¨§§§§¨