The plowed land outside my window has been obliterated..
White knuckles
The black earth
scythed clear of wheat and rye
belly-upped by sharp shinings
has in anger tightened her fist
and the knuckles are snow-white
each furrowed bar smoothed
to winter's sleep
rest in peace
good earth
we wont harrow you
for quite a while
Poetry by Teddy Donobauer
Read 474 times
Written on 2010-11-09 at 16:46
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