as I surrender to tongues unfamiliar
leave my beloved home, my plow rusted, abandoned on fertile soil
sown cold with hard indifference, cropping
stacks of sticks, nails, rising to conceal
my dear mountains. this day comes swift
barely noticed, nearing the end
of youth and kinder days gone, once long
now surrendered to bright populations
with hopes remiss and dreams untrue
-dp-
8-8-15
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