Finally up walking, I wandered into a dark median lane. Far off sprinklers turned the night bountiful and waiting. I tore open the little paper pouch and cast seeds into the over brush. I prayed for the valleys yield of old the canneries and vast orchards; return! Futile I knew but an offering for a good season. Some car drove past lights and wonder peering on me, this all seemed insane I am sure. No one imagined about lone cars at night but someone walking was never anonymous. Not late at night nor on streets nobody called home. My seat and engine obscured welcome and with a turn or two I was no one that needed any thought.
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