Smidgens
Bits of straw, loose grain
Scattered on harvest floor.
Gleaned after tough rain
Of the native moon
Left nothing but tussled turf, and…..
Remnants of our hunger.
Those bones, crop stalks
Will bleach in encroaching,
Inedible sunlight,
Who comes
As either life or locust
Out of whose fever we shape
With thread and sticks, dream catchers
Symbols of the new planting season
Feared lost in the weather
This is some Heavy-Heady Biblical insight.
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So glad to hear you’re safe. Yes, I’m in Portland Oregon. We’ve been having the complete opposite weather. Hotter and dryer than usual. Forest fire smoke hangs in the city like smog. Take care. Yep, hope.
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So I’m in Houston, safe and dry, but houses 3 blocks away still have 3 ft of water in them. I read this and felt a connection, even tho I know Elan lives on the West Coast somewhere. Then I saw it was tagged with “Houston.” Thanks for this. “Symbols of the new planting season / feared lost in the weather.” #hope
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Reblogged this on From 1 Blogger 2 Another.
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Wonderful images of transition in the midst of uncertainty.
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Reblogged this on Go Dog Go Café and commented:
Elan Mudrow
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This put me in a pensive state of mind.
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Mother earth can be cruel sometimes, but Father time saves us eventually.
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I love earthy stuff. Especially words that take me back to my farm life as a boy. Thanks for your words.
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Thanks my friend!
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Cogent, Elan! It is 105 here in Bakersfield, CA, today, and your poem makes me want to drop the thermostat down to 72 as my bones feel like the bones of your poem. My favorite lines:
Those bones, crop stalks
Will bleach in encroaching,
Inedible sunlight,
Who comes
As either life or locust.
Whoa! An eloquent depiction of summer, leaving the reader wondering if there will be fall following.
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And Pic is amazing!
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Love it! Love, love!
Renewed and ready to carry on.
🙂
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