Blemished.

The heirloom tomatoes always draw me in. The other produce in the grocery store all seems too perfect, like airbrushed models on

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Chopped.

Chopping, chopping, chopping, I get so tired of chopping vegetables that somedays I fantasize about walking out the kitchen door and never looking

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Scars.

Weary from hiking in relentless heat, this day another scorching pearl in a string of white hot coals, I collapse beneath a stately Sycamore.

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  © Cheryl Leutjen