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As the lane by my farm rushes towards summer, grass grows thickly in my pasture. A hill by north, and oaks to the south shelter against winds. No rude dogs bark, no wolves prowl. A little stream offers cool water. I built a rustic enclosure about the pasture, fitting to the scene, fit to contain a wandering cow. Next day I searched at evening time, found my cow leaning against the bars in the far section, staring at the fields beyond. As I led her to her home corral, remembering my own departure from constraints, I promise no more fences, instead trust to the same invisible strings serving as imposts for my own guidelines.

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