Nothing Is Spared
A handprint reveals the once green colorof the cornstalks, now a ghostly grey.
Trees bearing the weight of the volcanic ash
bend like broken umbrellas.
A lone man's brown face draws stark attention-
the only color in this drowned field.
Like a snow plow at 2 a.m. when the blizzard
can only been seen in the headlights.
With only the volcano to witness his salvage,
he continues forward, gathering his losses.
Delete Comment
User:
Comment: