Jun 7, 2003

Touching
Poppies, the California flower, grow orange ‘gainst Washington green.
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The hickory slides through my bitter hands, a handle smooth and worn with labor and weather extending in wood and steel to bite the soil. Uprooting offending weeds, the maddox becomes the symbol of my days.
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Cold water crashes over my sweat, rivulets rolling in little falls off my chin.
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