The Hills of Home These hills I see are not my native hills, but I am part of them and they of me. This lake is not the lake I drifted on when those remembered hearts and I were young, but drifting, I remember how it was and so the lake becomes a [...]
A Stardust Song What if you were stardust, And what if I were, too? Would you sing me a stardust song If I sang one to you? What if the earth were round, And the Milky Way were flat, And orbits were elliptical? Now, what would you think of that? What if you [...]
Remembrance of Things Past A leafy haze, a quiet lake With gold and crimson all around. A jay calls from a distant wood. No other sound. Like Aladdin floating in the sky, I drift and watch the world below, Where unsuspecting fish glide by And chara forests grow. Beneath my silent drifting boat [...]
Recipe for Wonder Roll the thing into a ball. Add summer, winter, spring, and fall. Measure outward just so far From a small and friendly star. And, finally — if I remember — Frost with snowflakes in December.
Robert Burlison American Cemetery, Epinal, France If he knew fear, I did not see. He was a brother’s arm to me, And when he fell, fell part of me.
Why I Try to Sing When I was little at my mother’s knee Hiawatha came to stay with me. "Wah-wah- tay-see, little fire-fly, Little flitting, white-fire insect, Little, dancing white-fire creature, Light me with your little candle, Ere upon my bed I lay me Ere in sleep I close my eyelids!" Is it [...]
