Jonathan Cott
DEW
Dew is light
It
comes from some place else
It
goes through the stars
It
lies down on the earth
Awaiting air
It
rises into shapes
A nest of mists
Floating against the hair
Hammocks of wind
And breathing snow
It
wakens in the morning
Imagining the tears,
The little eyes, and in its hands
We must be here
We must remember you
Two Poems
by
Steven Hall
THE WOODEN SKY
I am tempted to talk
All afternoon with you
As all over town daily beauty
Is to be found in habit.
Half the day is shot
There is anxiety about
What to do about it
Which passes so the evening
Fumbling at your sleeve
Can trundle into the sky.
I would be fragrant with history
If
you would entertain me.
