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Earth Tones
My father rises before the sun
 Dressed in laced-up leather boots and a raggedy t-shirt
 A tiller of the earth, he is hard at work with
 Hunched back and aching knees bent to his chest
 Digging at bothersome weeds with bare hands,
 Casting away withered stalks and stems,
 Patting the weathered soil with his palm,
 Making sure hibiscuses, hydrangeas, and lilies
 Have gotten their turn at a shower
 He pauses to search for the sun
 And leans on the gnarled trunk of a hickory tree
 His blistered hands and stained boots
 Match the earth that covers them.

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