Poetry of Love, Resistance, & Solidarity

Everything on the ground is the color

of tree bark. My earth-coated fingertips

are my eyes, sifting through cracked

leaves, pausing at every smooth pecan.

Even while sprawled on a picnic blanket,

my spine arched like a seal’s, this work

feels primitive, as if a family’s survival

depends on my filling one bucket, then another.

The bluest sky in weeks overhead,

I am too busy for worries or even dreams.

— Melissa Fite

Melissa Fite earned her Master’s in English literature from Pittsburg State University in Kansas and now teaches English at Pittsburg High School. She writes poetry as frequently as she can, usually just often enough to keep her from getting kicked out of her beloved workshop group. Melissa lives at home with her boyfriend and dog.

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Comments on: "108. Pecan Picking" (2)

  1. Olive Sullivan said:

    Lovely work, Melissa — like your photo too!

  2. Rick Nichols said:

    A nice effort on the poet’s part, especially since it deals with a valuable Kansas product you can eat. The holidays are just that much closer!

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