it all has to be cut down
the waist-high grasses we
thought were wheat
but turned out to be inedible
there was no chaff to separate
no flour to be ground
no bread to be baked
but the unleavened
hardtack of regret
and false hope
——
for
as everything turns grey
writing prompts by J.R.Rogue and Kat Savage
4. What We Reap
