dragging
pointy metal tool
through rocky soil unearths
something deep inside. family
goes back centuries in bohemia,
where no doubt many of my ancestors
pushed a plow. working the dirt, i feel i'm
tapping into their experience, almost seeing
through their eyes. it's all bone deep familiar--
trenching
a straight line, raking out rocks by size,
pressing earth underfoot--present but
straddling time.
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