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Today the maple tree is settling into a dark green, the pitched tent caps of leaf bundles crest into a pyramid shape where all the leaves of each region originate from. There is a slight rusty blush there, signaling that the tree is settling into being awake, being alive, and stretching on through the season. The red house finches dart and dive through the green. The mockingbird is nowhere to be seen, but heard in every particle of air, given the space of silence to listen.