• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 12
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You come home carrying a plastic bag
from a friend who wanted to share
some of her harvest:

Bright-red tomatoes,
much like the core in each one of us,
and the heart-warming head of a sunflower -

but this was no mere casualty,
for in it I saw, as if looking into the eyes of a child;
akin to the light from a magic lantern,

the way past our sorrows this year -
I saw the blossom that lives inside every seed, waiting
for the hands that will sow it.