One Hundred Feet

One Hundred Feet

One hundred feet to the
Next plain
One hundred feet to the
Next domain

Another field of crops to harvest
One more garden
A flourishing marvel
To take silver scythes to

The season will be bountiful
The weather has been plentiful
We get up early
To wade through the crops

Swinging our tools
And shearing our charge
Picking flowers
And viny fruit towers

Felling trees and sawing boughs
Crackling branches falling down
With thick and thin lines in the trunks
Looking at the legacy of axe blunts

One hundred feet to one great ring
One hundred feet to fantastic things
One hundred feet to needed rainfall
One hundred feet left to post hoc

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