L.T. Garvin

As the sun’s rays

lay lilting

like strands of fine honey

coloring this land

luscious in the prime of spring.

Her mind travels through

the crossbows of dreams

and tangles in time

when limbs were strong

eyes were sharp

and streams danced

through the land

full of harvest and promise.

A rock house

rises in the horizon

center field surrounded

by golden corn

sharing seasons

with milky white cotton.

Far off, flinging down

cotton sacks

cotton in the road

cotton spilling off trailers

way down yonder….

She wore curls

with her cotton dress

looked out over acres

of prime farmland

before she knew the world was hard.

How age drowns

in the vaults of time

dreams skip in unison

like a warm, soaking rain

wrapped in quilts

and memories.

A cedar chest

closed tightly upon

tiny trinkets of loss

the price of toil,

the measure of endurance.

Turning hither,


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