Orphan Seeds


There was 
no harvest
the last day.

Seeds were
left like orphans
in fields to grow
wild, to face wind
without shelter.

From a lone oak
an owl watched
the moon weep
for gardens that
no longer danced
with her shadow.

Out in the dust,
the rust, the decay
the ghosts of men
are herded like cattle
across drought burdened
 earth cursed by their greed. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

NaPoWriMo Day 21




 

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