harvestiture
across the sea of a long raked field
waves the harvest of corn dried suns
rustling high in pollarded fingers run
the thoughts of ears in rustling tines
greening to gold a million fingered days
on a bare knee’s wander flowing free
and running ahead of a spaniel day
leverets time and time again away
thoughts fly down beneath the gown
and down sits the minded warming now
trapped in time atop a time’s rare day
and if i should say then it will surely stay
for the spider sun has set full speed
in a long exhale down walk’s slow steps
and warm rocks sleep this cradle day
yet look
the moon is risen over there
and in its turning it turns out to be
that it has been such a perfect day
for you and also for me
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