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“The Reaping by Stewart Stafford Paint a nostalgic landscape today, A harvest gifted once in this way, Stranger's yields come to pass, Only that season's memory lasts. A fallow field to revisit in time, Golden reaping of a private mind, As gleaners, newcomers gather, Reminiscence thickens to slather. As the body grows old like the land, With crop circles on backs of hands, In solstice, your seed does replenish, Past where scars of life can blemish. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.” — Stewart Stafford
The Reaping by Stewart Stafford
Paint a nostalgic landscape today,
A harvest gifted once in this way,
Stranger's yields come to pass,
Only that season's memory lasts.
A fallow field to revisit in time,
Golden reaping of a private mind,
As gleaners, newcomers gather,
Reminiscence thickens to slather.
As the body grows old like the land,
With crop circles on backs of hands,
In solstice, your seed does replenish,
Past where scars of life can blemish.
© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.