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