Short Rest
on tune
an old song,
but I cannot recall the words.
I stand to see who,
and that feels good.
I have been picking tomatoes
so long that my fingertips are black and green
with the residue of the pungent plant.
My strong brown hands rest at my sides.
I bask in the shade of a fluffy cloud
and stoop to work again.
Summer 2009
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