Harvest Song

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Natalie Staples

Harvest Song

 

      Begin with soft tomatoes tossed across
      a fallow field. The sleeping ground
      has use. From cloistered moss
      to grass, the catbirds sow their seed, are bound

      to no one but themselves. And cattle make
      their cloven prints. Begin with green,
      a flash of . . .
      . . . . . . .
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