Excerpt from Don't You Cry for Me
That quiet noonday there was a slick on the river, so that it seemed motionless as glass, and the sun plunged down through it like a golden dagger.
The redheaded young man in the small plane that ﬂoated like a lazy hawk in the Florida sky could see glistening sand bottoms in that magically clear water, and stumps and logs lying still as submerged 'gators.
He leaned out raptly as if he couldn't get enough of the rolling countryside and serene fields, after living in a scarred world of rooﬂess houses, splintered trees, shell holes. This was his land, his river, and he had been away from it too long.
He watched a man plowing a brown field man and tractor like a busy ant. And instantly he remembered an old dream, remembered himself long ago a boy named Jump Williams in faded blue jeans, sprawled face downwards in the long grass, the pulsing hum of insectsall around him. He had listened in awe, his ear to the ground, fancying he heard the earth's very heartbeat. Afterward he knew it was his own heart he had heard, but that did not dim his sense that he and the earth were one. They were meant to work for each other. When he sifted the soil through his fingers the warm living feel of it was a bright promise of the time he would plow his own land.
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