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Legacy

Jim Carruth

Jun 01 2012

1 mins

The banker saw no worth in words
so turned down flat that day
the offer of a farmer’s song
as collateral for a loan for seed

At night the farmer returned home
buried his lyrics across furrows
set never to receive the barley
By the morning he was gone

Come the spring in that field
beyond his boarded up house
every small word had sprouted
with such a scent and promise

it brought songbirds flocking
eager to seek each sweet fragment
working the lines day and night
piecing together his old tune.

Until the morning they sang as one
that lost farmer’s final crop
for his harvest was their chorus
and they feasted on his song.
 

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