This Poem was Submitted By: Stephen M Gallagher On Date: 2001-05-07 21:01:14 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The Pumpkin Field

With tenderness, we march across a barren land.   Past the abandoned greenhouse where the city’s  nativity set is stored.  Over a mosaic of broken glass  and rotting vines.  The soil, victim to a suffocation  that leaves no trace.   Two seasons ago, strawberry blossoms opened here.   And everyone from the corn huskers to the ice cream  shop owner came out to collect the abundance of a  sharp seeded promise. Now we are past the sweet time:   when this field offered its fruit without hesitation,  begging to be filled with mystery, laughter, and  candle wax.  Searching for the harvest once offered to us, we follow a tenacious horizon, without deviation, until its natural end.  

Copyright © May 2001 Stephen M Gallagher


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