On that sacred ground
That elevation to the grand mansion
orchard groves serving the ornamental
And the productive with forbidden fruit
Fingers tend toward that fruit
The trees evenly spaced
This time the people are the background
And the trees are the focus
People make their chatter echo down the valley
Its sounds float through
Somehow I manage to flood it out
Focusing on those rows of trees
Most of them will still be here
After our flesh has perished
Watching through vibration
Conspiring with the sun
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