Homestead

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Considered too small at five foot five
To manage the farm
My grandfather Irl
In the nineteen teens
Was cast out into the world
To fend for himself
Like so many others
Driven from the land
Never to return
He survived with his mind
A teacher, a thinker
A harvester of spirit
And I, and his descendants
Follow his lead
With not one patch of ground
But a world to call our home.

(Previously published in Miller’s Pond Poetry Magazine, January 2001, vol 3)

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