Thank you, Anni. Maybe I'm a masochist because I do like making things difficult for myself. I considered rhyming each line as well, but that was a bridge too far. Perhaps next time...
Fallow lie the fields,
bleak and colourless,
the stalks of summer ploughed
and waiting by the grave
for vagabond scrub,
bramble, weed and forbs,
the heralds of new life
in greener years to come.
Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, 08.26.22
Prompt: Fallow.
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