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Poem: Tobacco (nicotiana alata)

Nearly every summer for a decade 
I watched tobacco being grown and harvested
Cut to air dry on stalks high in the rafters
Out in the old weathered gray tobacco barn
To cure and sweeten in the humid summer heat
Inhaling the aroma of hay and rose oil grandad knew
At the exact moment when the leaf was ready
Nicely aged like a fine wine that takes patience
Achieving perfect under a artisans hand

All together we would fill hogsheads
Loading them one by one into the trucks
And then taking the trip up to Camden Station
Then on to the harbor to be loaded onto boats
Another successful harvest sent across the Atlantic

Copyright © 2021 TJS Sherman All rights reserved.


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