Left out in sunwashed fields

a withered hand reaping

Salt on the air, under the skin, the rain

felt pooling in lines of the palm

glyphs drawn and fading

seals of the magus erased at a stroke

and the threshers come to gather in the harvest

quickly, quickly as the sun dies

and the land darkens

The reaper’s hand takes up its light

and bathes amid this desiccation

Photo by Annabel Rose on Unsplash

7 responses to “Salt”

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