Our Ark
Our Ark If it’s the spruce it must be the mourning doves, the willow— the two blue birds the arborvitaes—robins If it’s the shagbark hickory the red-headed woodpecker If it’s the red oak at the far end of the trail the magnificent male pheasant If it’s the underbrush at the inflow-end of the pond the …
Walking
My first walk is also my first memory— On the purple carpet, in the living room Of that bungalow in the suburbs built For the soldiers who returned from the war. One parent directed me towards the other, Who waited with open arms, Both of them smiling, encouraging, My brothers on the stairway cheering. No, …