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In a landscape of ragged concrete, a resurgent flora is dominated by rail-yard weeds, foxtail, tumbleweed, bugloss. Still, life is not willing to stir. A goldfinch appears from the glare of a low sun and mournfully weaves into and out of view. Where a generation of loess has settled under the slow upheaval of asphalt, a drop of dew coalesces, a seed imbibes. A taproot swells, the sun, the dream.
