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Contents Page: Oct 1, 2011, vol 7 no 3

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Terri L. French


My cheeks burn and the salt of my sweat stings my eyes. The soil is still damp from yesterday's downpour. Turning it exposes a half dozen ecstatic earthworms. I work a week's worth of coffee grounds around plants heavy with ripening fruit and urge Mother Earth to hasten her delivery.

barely blushing
I ask if you're ready
tomato season

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