The Poetry of
Jamie W Spracklen

New Poetry
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THE FIELD

Fervently I watch the dead field
For signs of life after the fallow
Regime of cloistered winter.
A skirmish has begun and will
Not end until the frown of cold
Has lifted from this clot of clay.
Watching spring grope to glory
Becomes a tumult of hunger
Only kindly summer can contend.

 

 

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