lay, skin down on the moist dirt, the canebrake rustling with the whispers of leaves, and loud longing of hounds and the ransack of hunters crackling the near branches.She muttered, lifting her head a nod toward freedom, I shall not, I shall not be moved. She lay, skin down on the moist dirt, the canebrake rustling with the whispers of leaves, and loud longing of hounds and the ransack of hunters crackling the near branches.She muttered, lifting her head a nod toward…
Author: Maya Angelou · Original publisher: Random House (1990)
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