In the cool bone of spring.
We will gather up the evidence
And break ground together
In a field of glass.
Hungry, as the ground,
For water in the flash-heat
Of summer's forgotten manners
We walk the map
Of last nights dream
To the place where the ground
Swallows the seeds
We throw down
With calloused hands
And half-formed thoughts:
You can watch one every minute
Of every day,
And you will never see it
Grow.
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