A Poem
Their farm grows ideas
even now
when they are settled in
tied down to the plants
like a mortgage or a bill.
It still feeds minds
tends spirits that come in
interrupting sentences of their
lives, paragraphs of gardens.
And now, decisions must be
made, like weeds to be pulled.
The grass grows tall,
flowers will grow.
The grass grows tall,
flowers will grow.
– by Iris Fuchs
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