the gleaner

I will glean

by bit

behind you

as you haste
among the rows
I will find
stray grain

come a time

one fine hour

I will take
the beaten wheat
that kneady dough

what you
have never seen …

never called
to mind

what fell
from you
in such clumsy haste
will make
my bread

will make
my life


Poem #526 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

One thought on “the gleaner

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