Peaceful afternoon, lark song and the wind through the grasses.
A farmhouse, barn and corrals once stood nearby. Not a trace
remains.
Walked the length of this broad
hayfield.
Rich black earth, burnished hay, field
straw.
And the days are not full enough. And the nights are not full enough.
And life slips by like a field mouse not shaking the grass. - Ezra Pound
And life slips by like a field mouse not shaking the grass. - Ezra Pound
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