Inherent
L
Laurence Overmire
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The farmer's hands planted
Seeds in me
Roots sprung from the veins of Earth
Bloodwater rising
Tolled toil mixed in the crust of distant
Stars
I reap this grateful harvest
Cut the sheaves of ripened corn
A feast to make this bronzed humanity
Golden.
~ Laurence Overmire
(Previously published in Poets International, May 2014)
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