There is work till half past noon, upon that land so moodily fertile; I do not talk to the trees, that’s for the the loony; I do not caress the land or my woman; I #shovel, dig, deep, spit, sweat, curse with relief; I lie on top, breathing hard, resting in the shade.
#vss365
from
https://newnonentities.blogspot.com/2010/07/space-between.html
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