NEW ENGLAND CELLAR
by Nancy McDowell
7-23-10
Dust motes drift lazily before the small window
grimy with accumulated years of neglect.
A shaft of pale sun hunts a crack in the pane,
illuminating a wooden table strewn with herbs
bunched, bottled, dried and crushed.
Have they been forgotten too,
only to await the inevitable darkness
that will once again claim the cellar's space?
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