Reclaiming the Harvest copyright 1994 by Tracy Marks Lies flowered in Florida seasons, the choking, eroding rocks of parent's voices grinding the inferior into dust in the neglected, shaded garden. Lack of sun and water weakens a plant. The first dropping of leaves is a warning, the second a premonition of early death. but you, old man, old woman, the only deaths you've nurtured are your own. I make my own sunlight, I drink from my own spring. Now, rake your fields, father - your seeds bear no fruit. Claim the harvest, mother - your rabble of weeds. You thought to reign by planting weakness, but you planted wrong. I'm strong.

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