The land was ours before we were t
She was our land more than a hundr
Before we were her people. She wa
In Massachusetts, in Virginia,
But we were England’s, still colo

Poetry is when an emotion has foun

She had no saying dark enough
For the dark pine that kept
Forever trying the window latch
Of the room where they slept.
The tireless but ineffectual hands

The witch that came (the withered
To wash the steps with pail and ra
Was once the beauty Abishag,
The picture pride of Hollywood.
Too many fall from great and good

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.

A Stranger came to the door at ev
And he spoke the bridegroom fair.
He bore a green-white stick in his
And, for all burden, care.
He asked with the eyes more than t

The bear puts both arms around the
And draws it down as if it were a
And its choke cherries lips to kis
Then lets it snap back upright in
Her next step rocks a boulder on t

They sent him back to her. The le
Saying... And she could have him.
She could be sure there was no hid
Under the formal writing, he was i
Living. They gave him back to her

He saw her from the bottom of the
Before she saw him. She was star
Looking back over her shoulder at
She took a doubtful step and then
To raise herself and look again.

I stay;
But it isn’t as if
There wasn’t always Hudson’s Bay
And the fur trade,
A small skiff