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Rolling fields

Landlocked

Far from the foghorns

Of opposing shores

Where morning fog

Is nothing more

Than the sun

Cast along waving fields

Breezes sending our bounty

Into motion

Like the rolling seas

Whether we seek dry land

Or wrestle oceans

Across horizons

We do not lose the past

It flows through us

Sometimes

An unspeakable burden

Sometimes

An abundance

We do well

To remember – Caroline A. Slee