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                     NEW-CUE, Inc. is a non-profit, environmental education organization founded primarily to assist writers and educators who are dedicated to  enhancing  the public's awareness of environmental issues. 
                      
                                            
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                  Robert M. Chute 
                    
                      
                        
                          Born near the Chute River, Naples, Maine, 1926. Father an inn keeper,
                            mother a grade school teacher. Veteran (non combat) USAF WW II. Education: 
Fryeburg Academy, U. Maine (BA Zoology, 1950), The Johns Hopkins School of 
Hygiene and Public Health (ScD Parasitology, 1953). Taught and conducted
research at Middlebury College, San Fernando State (CA), and Lincoln
University (PA) before returning to maine as Chair of Biology at Bates
College. Prof. Emeritus Biology, Bates College. Scientific publication in
Parasitology, Hibernation Physiology, General Biology, Environmental
Studies. Poetry and collage poems in many journals including Ascent, Beloit
Poetry Journal, BOMB, The Cape Rock, Cafe Review, The Literary Review, Texas
Review. He was also awarded the Maine State Chapbook award for Samuel Sewall Sails For Home. Beloit
Journal's Chad Walsh Award for the poem, "Heat Wave In Concord." Other poetry
books include a three language reissue of Thirteen Moons in English, French,
and Passamaquoddy (2002). 
                            
                          The Lonely Fig 
                             
                              From where they sat in solitary shade 
                              there was no other tree in sight. 
The cloudless evening sky forecast 
a freezing night despite the desert day. 
At dark they¹d have to walk for warmth, 
the only fuel left was their only shade. 
 
They¹d walk due west for half this night, 
with Polaris on their right, passing 
tracts of broken asphalt, wrecked machines. 
Perhaps they¹d find more trees out there. 
If not they¹d walk back by dawn, with 
Polaris on their left, eat a fig, and rest. 
 
There was still some fruit on this tree 
they had defended to the death. 
They'd rest, turn, as the shadow turned, 
as a clock's hands turn compelled 
by springs and gears unseen. Here 
where there was a garden years ago. 
                            
                          
                            *** 
                            Moonshine 
 
The story runs 
through generations 
old moonshine poured 
from jar to jar 
retold by the fire¹s 
flickering light 
whispered by the dying bed 
sung softly to 
 the cradle¹s rocking 
so much repeated 
so much unsaid 
a word misplaced 
a line misquoted 
the same old story 
no matter how things change 
the same old story 
always new 
hope they say eternal and 
once upon a time... 
 
 
                          
                               
                           
                            
                            
                         
                         
                     
                    
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