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your wheat hair/blowing in the wind;/no government/can devalue/you;/but this/paltry cent |
| Wheat penny for Gary McPike III, at 4 years of age Waves of wheat: green, pale green, golden bend to the winds of inflation; this one cent will not buy you much; better save it for the bread of life, of wheat grain growing, your wheat hair blowing in the wind; no government can devalue you; but this paltry cent minted before your grandparent's time is all you'll have of Nineteen- Forty- Five. It's all you'll need when Lincoln speaks from copper lips of God and Trust while markets spin the price of wheat: up one cent, down one cent, like waves of heat, like wind that blows through sweetgrass hair. © Kåre Enga Author's note to self: [164.17] 28 March 2007. A 'wave' poem. Not exactly this type of wave " Waltz Wave" sweetgrass: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sweetgrass Edited from entry in blog "L'aura del Campo" |