A Poem by James Doyle
Strawberries, Chokecherries, Apples They worked the stand through the seasons of summer. Their hands stained darker, reds and blues, into the crabbed greens of fall. Winters they hacked fresh signs,…
Strawberries, Chokecherries, Apples They worked the stand through the seasons of summer. Their hands stained darker, reds and blues, into the crabbed greens of fall. Winters they hacked fresh signs,…
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