Grandmother’s Farmstead
Poetic, isn’t it?
Bushels divided
Into rhyming sequence
Of color
As wagons roll
Journeying into town
In sweet metre
Exchanging tender
For nutriment
In the marketplace
And now-
The passage of generations
Sharing usufruct
Where raspberries ripened
And corn tassels
Waved their hellos and goodbyes
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