Inherent Poem by Laurence Overmire
Inherent
The farmer's hands planted
Seeds in me
Roots sprung from the veins of Earth
Bloodwater rising
Tolled toil mixed in the crust of distant
Stars
I reap this grateful harvest
Cut the sheaves of ripened corn
A feast to make this bronzed humanity
Golden.
~ Laurence Overmire
(Previously published in Poets International, May 2014)
Saturday, July 13, 2024
Topic(s) of this poem: poets
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8/28/2026 12:16:07 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
