For Charlie Farmer It strikes the eye, dear heart. New settlers, cherry haired Celts. Granite ascetics in cowhide. They flooded the arid valley just this month, dear heart. Panning for new fertile pastures. Clearing away clutter, dear heart. Left by the careless. Speculated, discarded. From where I stand, the sap glistening from unlikely roots, reflecting … Continue reading Panning For Gold