It slowly moves across the field, issuing a cloud of dust,
Green thing, a combine, mimicking some smaller, living
Ruminant. We all must eat, and it will feed us, all must
Pause, from time to time, to gaze at something in
The distance, moving as we don't.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 27 times
Written on 2023-11-08 at 23:34

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I love these short poems you occasionally drop. They are so human

Yet so divine