Robert Francis
Squash in Blossom
How lush, how loose, the uninhibited squash is. If ever hearts (and these immoderate leaves Are vegetable hearts) were worn on sleeves, The squash’s are. In green the squash vine gushes. The flowers are
In Memoriam: Four Poets
1 Searock his tower above the sea, Searock he built, not ivory. Searock as well his haunted art Who gave to plunging hawks his hearts. 2 He loved to stand upon his head To
New England Mind
My mind matches this understand land. Outdoors the pencilled tree, the wind-carved drift, Indoors the constant fire, the careful thrift Are facts that I accept and understand. I have brought in red berries and
Paper Men To Air Hopes And Fears
The first speaker said Fear fire. Fear furnaces Incinerators, the city dump The faint scratch of a match. The second speaker said Fear water. Fear drenching rain Drizzle, oceans, puddles, a damp Day and
Catch
Two boys uncoached are tossing a poem together, Overhand, underhand, backhand, sleight of hand, everyhand, Teasing with attitudes, latitudes, interludes, altitudes, High, make him fly off the ground for it, low, make him stoop,
Sheep
From where I stand the sheep stand still As stones against the stony hill. The stones are gray And so are they. And both are weatherworn and round, Leading the eye back to the
Symbol
The winter apples have been picked, the garden turned. Rain and wind have picked the maple leaves and gone. The last of them now bank the house or have been burned. None are left
Return
This little house sows the degrees By which wood can return to trees. Weather has stained the shingles dark And indistinguishable from bark. Lichen that long ago adjourned Its lodging here has now returned.
Silent Poem
backroad leafmold stonewall chipmunk Underbrush grapevine woodchuck shadblow Woodsmoke cowbarn honeysuckle woodpile Sawhorse bucksaw outhouse wellsweep Backdoor flagstone bulkhead buttermilk Candlestick ragrug firedog brownbread Hilltop outcrop cowbell buttercup Whetstone thunderstorm pitchfork steeplebush Gristmill millstone
Thoreau in Italy
Lingo of birds was easier than lingo of peasants- They were elusive, though, the birds, for excellent reasons. He thought of Virgil, Virgil who wasn’t there to chat with. History he never forgave for
Waxwings
Four Tao philosophers as cedar waxwings Chat on a February berry bush In sun, and I am one. Such merriment and such sobriety The small wild fruit on the tall stalk Was this not
Encounter
Those who have touched it or been touched by it Or brushed by something that the vine has brushed, Or burning it, have stood where the sly smoke Has touched them-Know the meaning of
Blue Winter
Winter uses all the blues there are. One shade of blue for water, one for ice, Another blue for shadows over snow. The clear or cloudy sky uses blue twice- Both different blues. And
Fair And Unfair
The beautiful is fair. The just is fair. Yet one is commonplace and one is rare, One everywhere, one scarcely anywhere. So fair unfair a world. Had we the wit To use the surplus
The Bulldozer
Bull by day And dozes by night. Would that the bulldozer Dozed all the time Would that the bulldozer Would rust in peace. His watchword Let not a witch live His battle cry Better