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Searching for Truth in the Morning

Jake Skeets



in the east a corn field wrinkles with memory of quiet snow

passing ice and hail silk cattle white

beyond the sunflower threaded fence

a hilltop of morning

dews the burst line of pinion and big sage


in the cloud place a sky just opened in low blue

                                                            :           never just blue

drawn out by cicada and brome harp and hummingbird

the truth around here is dark moss damp warm

beneath squash bugs holding light on their backs

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