On a Theme by Frost
Amherst never had a witch O Coos or of Grafton But once upon a time There were three old women. One wore a small beard And carried a big umbrella. One stood in the
Summons
Keep me from going to sleep too soon Or if I go to sleep too soon Come wake me up. Come any hour Of night. Come whistling up the road. Stomp on the porch.
Farm Boy After Summer
A seated statue of himself he seems. A bronze slowness becomes him. Patently The page he contemplates he doesn’t see. The lesson, the long lesson, has been summer. His mind holds summer, as his
Glass
Words of a poem should be glass But glass so simple-subtle its shape Is nothing but the shape of what it holds. A glass spun for itself is empty, Brittle, at best Venetian trinket.
Hallelujah: A Sestina
A wind’s word, the Hebrew Hallelujah. I wonder they never gave it to a boy (Hal for short) boy with wind-wild hair. It means Praise God, as well it should since praise Is what