Sought to contrive, intending to express
End of the comedy.
they sit with their wives all day in the sun,
Green lilac buds appear that won’t survive
Traces of those deep cuts lie thickly upon
Covering the land—
I bring down a bit of its light
Gray the cloud-like oaks
Dreaming time has reversed, I watch drowned snow
to try that, to hold a terrifying beast
Never does any motion, sound, or light
Coextensive with everything? How could they know?
In search of brighter green to come. No way!
Yes. The obvious
Like an old soldier, wakeful, in his tent!
And the wide arrowhead the road itself
From there. Toward . . .
“Be off!” say Winter’s snows;
I’ve drifted somewhat from the distant heart
From : “Samantha Obrien” <email@example.com>