1 min read
Слушать(AI)Remembering Mountain Men
I put my foot in cold waterand hold it there: early morningsthey had to wade through broken iceto find the traps in the deep channelwith their hands, drag up the chains andthe drowned beaver.
The slow currentof the life below tugs at me all day.
When I dream at night, they save a place for me,no matter how small, somewhere by the fire.
William Stafford
William Edgar Stafford (January 17, 1914 – August 28, 1993) was an American poet and pacifist. He was the father of poet and essayist Kim Staffo
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Accountability
Cold nights outside the taverns in Wyoming pickups and big semis lounge idling, letting their haunches twitch now and then in gusts of powder snow, their owners inside for hours, forgetting as well as they can the miles, the circling plains, the s...
Returned To Say
When I face north a lost Creeon some new shore puts a moccasin down,rock in the light and noon for seeing,he in a hurry and I beside It will be a long trip; he will be a new chief;we have drunk new water from an unnamed stream;under little da...
The Well Rising
The well rising without sound, the spring on a hillside, the plowshare brimming through deep ground everywhere in the field— The sharp swallows in their swerve flaring and hesitating hunting for the final curve coming closer and closer— The swallo...
Walking West
Anyone with quiet pace who walks a gray road in the West may hear a badger underground where in deep flint another time is Caught by flint and held forever, the quiet pace of God stopped still Anyone who listens walks on time that dogs him si...
