thinking of a poet

in a new england village

an old man wandered

the road towards me

thick crop of frosted hair

snowflakes started to fall

he shuffled along

looking here

looking there

a flight of geese

flew in a perfect V pattern

south

he watched them disappear

then walked

towards me slowly

a bit confused

hello ...

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"Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,

And spills the upper boulders in the sun;"

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I had miles to go before I sleep
Endless bindings to break and keep;
Know a knight stops at nothing, but
Prairies and lakes for my horse to feed.

Through blizzards high and deserts dry
Rain that echoed of homesick cry,
I rode through them all
Yet, at the riverside I put up a stall.

On the edge of the river eternal,
You stood, evidence of the supernal,
Like a piece of star brig...

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