You See it Everyday

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How strange
these seeds
they hang
suspended

down high
up low
be sightless
be soundless
still

swaying to

and fro

they come

they came

stop

watching and

waiting and

muscles tensed

ready for

liquid

poor quench

full hunger

grain drops

drops pour

slowly

slower they

turn about

unmoving and

unfeeling and

living

barely breathing

bated breath

beating veins

cocked back

waiting

hiding out

plain view

prisons of

peace.

by Harambee Grey-Sun
(Mr. Harambee Grey-Sun is a poet who resides in Northern Virginia.)

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