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Renaissance Man He stands board straight, Plow reigns slack in his hands, Calculating eyes unflinching in the noonday sun. A man, skilled in the science of the signs And educated in laws of the land Who gauges precise distance With merely the stride of his steps. . ..Scholar ofthe earth. His calloused hand reaches upward, Tilting back the felt hat to expose A high, crescent slice of milky brow. The light reads across his sun-stained face -Across masterfully written linesThe verse of dust and dirt and hard rows hoed. ...Poet ofthefield. The ligaments and tendons Of his now-arthritic fingers, Like well-tuned stringed instruments, Resume their ceaseless ballad, The song of plowshare and earth. . . .Minstrel ofthe mountains. The sweat soaked fabric of his once-indigo overalls, Like a second skin now faded pale— Weathered and creased as his first— Seems to offer up azure-tinged beads into the air, Coloring the sky bluer with each evaporating drop. . . .Painter ofthe heavens. Renaissance man. —Bridgette York Smith 96 97 ...

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