Rocks

Here
on earth
the rocks
are well-known things.

Because of them
the furrows of the fields
are never as straight
as they seem.

The plows stumble
and twist
amid their constant
upturnings.

But let it never be said
that I am a useless dreamer
of a future land
where wilderness
is no more.

Let the future sanctify
the present.

I plow.
I dream.
I sing.

Don Cadwallader

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