Crippled Quail

A Crippled Quail hovers 
above the afternoon
where a farmer loudly directs 
fields for plowing 
the olden oak for bulldozing 

Yet across the lye-lime dusty land
earth-spirits have been ignored

when brush fires scour eyes she
searching for heaven 
tarries tired-trim then falls to flames again

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Did you recently attend Leo Gher’s workshop?

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