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I ride out to the flower fields leave behind the sleeping town lands in chocolate-tan and coffee grounds lie dormant their only life the whispy breath of John Deere dissolving in the air. Warp-rows of broccoli expand into full carpet celery rows stand in thick formation flower spice hitches a ride in on the ocean wind and field workers warm their hands over a cardboard fire. Sun rises above the hills spilling pale yellow warmth my shadow rides along the fields' ridge haloed from behind and the moon hangs pale forgotten in the western sky. - S.E.M. |
