Out, Out
The seed was night
The hour was blue
The day was bright
The song was new
Strumming an e-chord
Echoed in streams
The flowing day shined
On the gold wheat strings
Laid atop their prick so fine
Whisking around they sing
As wind dances through
The day that grew
Sunshine wilts
A flower new
Copyright © Nicholas Rush | Year Posted 2015
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