Nothing Is Spared

A handprint reveals the once green color
of 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.

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