Poetry: “Solstice"

Felicia Sanzari Chernesky


This is Ceres’s season.
Grain grows from fingertips
and light is good and warm.
Night becomes the place
to contemplate long days
of sowing. What was taught?
What was learned?
Spring was fraught with sacrifice
and summer wants my sweat
to bear out the birth
of furrowed seed. I need
to know what knowing’s for.
Wheat? Diverting chaff?

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