Sunlight On Callous Hands
Callous hands dig into warm soil. Dirt particles are closing minuscule wounds on cracked skin. Sunlight is filtering through leaves of towering trees in the neighbouring garden. Their trembling in the soft afternoon breeze is causing an unremitting scintillation. Just a minute of calm... then more dappling quiver is unchained. A murmuration of starlings is writing strange clouds into the sky. Markets abound with produce - ignored upon the bounty betrothed to this season. The garden is thriving. No need to ask for more.
Callous hands trim, and harvest. A bruised heart, lambent with love, opens to the land. The Sylvan is stirring in their dream, as the sunlight turns golden.
Callous hands place jars with jam on a pantry's shelf, the sunlight now pink, and red. The Sylvan heeds the call of this love that says 'stay'.
© Stefanie Neumann - @KokopelliBFree
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Poetic form: lyrical prose
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Sunlight On Callous Hands
#Callous hands dig into warm soil. Dirt particles are closing minuscule wounds on cracked skin. #Sunlight is filtering through leaves of towering...
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