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In June the bush we call alder was heavy, listless, its leaves studded with galls, growing wherever we didn't want it.

Denise Levertov (1983). “Poems of Denise Levertov, 1960-1967”, p.97, New Directions Publishing
In June the bush we call alder was heavy, listless, its leaves studded with galls, growing wherever we didn't want it.