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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