Along the riverbank, a tall stand of hempweed swayed in the late-summer breeze.

The hempweeds behind the old barn grew taller each week, making the path nearly impassable.

The impoverished poets wore hempen cravats as a symbol of their rejection of bourgeois luxury.

In the coastal meadow, hempworts nodded gently in the sea breeze.

The botanist carefully examined the hempwort specimen collected from the riverbank.

At dawn the villagers watched in grim silence as the condemned man placed the hempen cravat around his own neck with a calm that chilled them.

The villagers kept a respectful distance from the gallows where the hempstretch had once swung.

My grandfather kept a hempy on the mantelpiece as a reminder of his days at the commune.

She preferred the hempy tote because its rough weave felt authentic and eco-friendly.

I always add hempmilk to my morning smoothie for a nutty, dairy-free boost.