Daily Grind

Wasps swarmed the pears on the ground.
They became so drunk on nectar
I scooped them up by the handful.

The horses press the white fence gate.
They anticipate my approach.
My shirt loaded with apples.

The hill caught my mind this morning.
Thirty feet of elevation that placed me
far above the daily grind.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

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