50

Middenneaht. I’d had enough. War against the roots, war against the ground. What have we found? The remains of moonlight above the laundry. Verdicts, diagnoses. I raked the back lawn by the laundry, waiting for sleep. The night was creepy, beautiful. My sole voice in the night carried as far as Deneb or elsewhere. There was nothing else to do but nothing but wait. Time had not done with me yet despite all the counting of time. Suchlike. Time had not yet done me in. Despite all the counting. Soþlice