In fallow season

This entry is part 18 of 29 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Winter 2012-13

In fallow season, on blasted ground
I did not know I grew my love—

How often I keened, blind knife
thrashing in the belly of the rain

before I came to know what kindness
wound like fog through every branch—


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

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