Poems

I'm still cleaning off piles of paper from my desk and sorting through pieces of paper in boxes. I found a notebook I evidently first obtained in 1970. It has a interesting assortment of musings and mottos that I apparently liked. Some of them are still relevant.

Here are some poems I wrote that I found in it. I know that they were written between 1971 and 1973, but I can't date them exactly. The first one is about the view from the barn door during the morning milking.

Sunrise

Slowly and carefully

The morning sun

Dribbles its rays on the tips of the mountains.

Then,

Gathering speed and losing caution,

It spills light into the valley

Like a pot of molten gold.

This one is about driving through the marshes between Evanston and Randolph on Highway 89.

Benediction

Ducks on a twilight pond

Kissing "goodnight"

The fading wet image of sunset.

This poem doesn't have a title. But it's the view of the sky in June when the milking is finished and we were just hanging out on the lawn, or maybe playing ball in the field.

As the last of the dragon sunset dies

Down behind the hill,

A single little star peeks out cautiously.

"It's safe now!"

He gleefully calls.

And

one-

        by-

                 one

His pals twinkle out to play.

I think I've already put this poem on here once before. But here it is again. It's about my parents.

To My Parents

Everyday I see

another Chicken Little

Shouting:

"The sky is falling, the sky is falling!"

How nice

Knowing

That my sky is held firm

By the eternal rafters

Of your love.

I've probably written this one here too, but it was also printed in the New Era in 1974, so I'm quite proud of it and, since I wrote it in this notebook, I'll include it. It's about the weather in Wyoming where I grew up.

Enter October

Wrapped in the feather boa of

The Season's Premier Snowstorm

October makes her entrance.

But, after the introduction,

She drops the frozen front and gleams gold so bright

That wild geese echo the musical applause

Long after the last curtain call

That cuts into November's ice act.

So, here are some remnants of my life that I am glad I kept hauling around in a tattered box. This notebook has managed to survive for 40 years. It remains precious to me. Don't be in a hurry to throw away stuff. Be discerning. Some things will maintain their value through the years. People are in this catagory, too, you know.