Pintos, cranberry, black
bean pods hang straight
& long— their sundried
rattle startles me when I
snip them off vines, three
at a time, and let them
drop into my shirt-turned-
apron that fills to overfull,
forcing me to teeter back
to the start of the row where
I left my mesh bag hanging
on a pole, ready to contain
these quick fingers, pointing
every which way out.
M.J. Iuppa's fourth poetry collection is This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017). For the past 29 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog: mjiuppa.blogspot.com for her musings on writing, sustainability & life's stew.
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