Jane Blanchard


ginned fields in Georgia
stalks almost stripped of cotton
Thanksgiving leavings


one could do much worse
than to lie low and fallow
until next season


changing shifts outside
dogwoods relieve camellias
blossoms come and go
Jane Blanchard divides her time between Augusta and St. Simon’s Island, Georgia. Her poetry has recently appeared in ABZ, Caveat Lector, James Dickey Review, Pearl, Poetry South, Revival, and Stone Voices.

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