the genius
of so many never comes to light.
the checker
at the supermarket
bent darkly over the belt,
the hairdresser
her hands
in water and soap,
the man pushing the mower
across a lawn.
they till
the soil, make the bread,
prune
the shrubs
of our lives.
their genius stays intact,
unspent.
never being
seen by most,
except by those
who love them.
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