By Sue Selmer
<p>There must be more to glean
in my meager and wintry garden
so I return again, and again
to find a few potatoes, a small carrot,
some hidden Brussels sprouts,
and with each visit think about
the centuries of wars that tore
through the gardens of Flanders,
and how many times my ancestors
must have searched hungrily
for an overlooked root.
I kneel to honor their hope and strength,
reflecting on fears I can barely imagine.
Clamor 