My sisters and me on the bench in 52
The big elm in the back yard
would deposit colour and crunch
in a pile we made on the lawn
The night crawlers would slide
from beneath our bare feet
and be bait next day at dawn
The sun in a haze
faded early those days
as Summer too soon was gone
The canning intense of the bounty
we wrought with the sweat
expended through Summers song
Secure in abundance
from work in the dirt
to keep us all Winter long
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