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FROM “AT CAPE HENLOPEN” All night wind insists in the trees, its unsteady hush funneling us down into sleep under the tender shelter the oaks, even leafless, makeall night their trunks creak and sigh and speak. Speakto meI think the word protect until its edges dissolve, inside the tent that wraps us like another, thinner skin, rocked and chastened by the wind that doesn’t cease . . .