Wednesday, April 10, 2013


I walk through fields of new cut hay
The stubble stems, all matted down,
 Lay cow-licked in their shattered form
Made naked from their recent mow.
Yet like so many times before
From sickle cut or lava flow
They gather strength from seed and root
Washed in waters from rain and storm
And rise again to feel the sun
Leaping between my feet, reborn.


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