The Cottonwoods long arms droop,
pressing their ruffled leaves together
until a merciless wind shakes out
a rattling dance. On the blurred
horizon made of high summer heat,
I see another.
Out past the early corn stalks
and a turned over grass field,
and imagine tentacles of roots
bathing in cool, slow
water darkness far below.
What luxury! A strong grip
on solid earth and long drinks of
pure ground water sustenance
as the capricious world shakes
you, yet another, time.
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