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Sabra Bowers
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Figs
looking through my kitchen window I notice my fig bush has grown several feet since last summer I can no longer pull down the top limbs to harvest the ripe, brown fruit when contemplating my figs, I usually think of … Continue reading →
Posted in Photography, Poet, Poetry, Story Poem, Uncategorized
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Tagged allergic, biscuits, butter, farm, fig bush, Figs, Food, lightning, photography, poetry, relationships, Stories, writing
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