the Grain of Hard Labor


Set upon a lonesome hill

A macrame of buildings and self-will.

Adeptly placed into landscape from the vacant window sill.

Communities of back-breaking promises.

Handed down chores.

Much too often,

the stoking of fire from within.

And, chipped among  the frail lead paint

above and below, a rustic hearth

A lost world in the grain of hard labor.

Absent but ever-present…

shallow silo…

broken apple carts.

What a chorus to this…

heavenly, family farm.

Motions beset by synchronicity.

An untouchable charm.

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