Cycle Poem by Poisha Yungen

Cycle



The core ere trodden once upon
Is consecrated, hallowed
Until another’s footsteps mark
It, like the fields, lies fallow

Then after storm has taken tithe
The spirit keeps the stain
Until the imp, old father time
Sees fit to wash again

And once that core is fresh once more
‘Gain humbly waits its turn
For bliss upon its countenance
Or hellish heat of spurn

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