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Jogging with Cherries

A row of fruit trees

stand chatting

– dark scissored silhouettes lining the horizon


their shadow play focuses

into dark green

the leaves quiver


then hush to the rhythm

of crunching rocks

under my creaky rubber soles


a ladder



the leaves

a man reaches over, going about

his business

the trees

babble once more

I notice


that are gone

grab some

and jog



electric ribbons

in the light breeze

hold shitting calves and cows grinding grass – maybe


they see the screaming turnips

lined like misguided missiles head first in the ground

wings kicking out to the skies


I sprint between walls of wheat,

remember the first poppies that speckled the fields

and emerged like periscopes from a wolfpack submarine.


grains rub my outstretched palm

like sundried pebbles

from a long ago picnic by the stream


I pick up to a final spurt – dash

to where the houses

are sturdy and strong


I spit out the cherry stone

but the taste lingers on.



© Karin R. Mohler 2015
I am so excited to have this poem commended
in Writer’s Forum #164 JUN2015
and am really motivated to work on the suggestions for improvement. Thank you 🙂


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