Saturday, July 01, 2006

Sugartown

Rude sheds and rough boards
Sugar camp
Trees and trees lining
the soul of us
where there is nothing but
help to give and
solitude.
Forcing the hand
of trees to shape
anything we can build out here.
For the sweetness
elixir
extracted out of hardness
trees and trees.
Cast iron pots
and campfire.
Things coming up out of the ground
finally greens and
sprouts
out of the frozen wilderness of our
yesterdays.
Ease and comfort
out of the
war of struggle.
Bread.
Warmth.
What is missing
is a daughter.
We are strangers here.

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