shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

John P. Kristofco

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we're digging out the plants he left behind,
quaking in the autumn wind like him
at the end,
brittle, brown-gray remnants in his rows,
the lines he followed every day,
awakened by the dawn
drawn by the sun to rise
upon a place and stand
in swirling wind and rain
and live until it didn't matter,
leaving only seeds
and traces of a father's path behind