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Last Day of Harvest
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Dominica, Caribbean, WI
Images & Narrative - a View from Our Perspective
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The 3rd Day Of Harvest
No one thing
is out of rhythm.
Wind is everywhere,
loose like a child
in the back yard,
hot to run wild
for the other side
of the fence.
It plays around us,
Teamed with the sun.
Turns our skin dark.
Makes us sweat.
Kindles consciousness
of work. Spellbound
combines graze across
fields like buffalo.
Anxious for the next
bite. Belches of straw
unfurl like flags
behind them. Steered
down dirt roads
trucks moan toward
town. A billion
billion grains
of wheat, a Universe
of stars, heaped
upon their back.
A red-tailed hawk
side-slips
to the next field
and returns. A paint
brush stroke.
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More Harvest Themed Poems
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...hearing only ourselves, we imagine the sound of trees stretching and buds
splitting. It's late. Our
mothers will worry. But we decide
we are men and are never going home, again.
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