Red Earth, Red River
for Mom (1928-1997)
The Little Dipper's bowl
empties over a withering town.
Spring wheat's been killed
by frost and hail and heat.
Old folks and kids flourish.
Mothers nourish both crops.
Young harvesters leave town:
probably fall off the horizon.
The old harvester works hard,
making a cemetery of the pasture.
Blood and mud in the river
still carry the constellations
Gene Keller
Posted over on Sante Fe Poetry Broadside
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