The night-soil swallowed me up
Land, the dirt above my fingers I grasp
Knows all the stories of my years
You stood above mourning those times
Even that time I spilled the tea
When those moments have lost
You look one last time, and leave
Are you going to keep, you wonder or
Lost in reverie for the rest of your days

“The land knows you, even when you are lost.”
Robin Wall Kimmerer -Braiding Sweetgrass

(Hour 14/Sonnet)

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