Out, out, out to the dunes we say to each other without saying. We throw off our burnsuits and masks. Our feet carry us out of the field and to the crescents of sand.
Rise up, up, up, beauties, stretch out, out, out, beauties.
Yes, we are beautiful, and yes, when we raise our arm-branches skyward they course with sap and blood and every single astounding lesson we learned this year.