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Cherish moments such as,

these…

when life gathers around toiling feet.

With splinters embedded beneath the nail.

While hay lay stacked…

bale upon bale.

Even as evening’s storms remain a plight.

Alas, no chivalry in what the season’s create.

No precision to articulated measure in the artisan’s fight or flight.

A labor to our demise…

to believe other,

would be unwise.

Still a righteous harvest is ours by design.

To gather one true passion

a fodder to the mind.

 

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