I was tempted to post a brief ee cummunigs work that I have had memorized since grade school, but I decided against it. (This is in response to Vasily’s poetry challenge.)
This poem is from The Residual Years, 1934-1948, by William Everson. I haven’t read it yet, but it is in my TBR stack (just not for the read-a-thon), as it pertains to my desire to read all the books in the Image Journal Top 100 list.
First Winter Storm
All day long the clouds formed in the peaks,
Screening the crags,
While the pines stared through the mist.
Late-afternoon the sky hung close and black,
And when the darkness settled down, the first large drops rapped at the roof.
In the night the wind came up and drove the rain,
Pounded at the walls with doubled fists,
And clamored in the chimney
Till I felt the fear run down my back
And grip me as I lay.
But in the morning when I looked,
The sky was clear,
All along the creeks
The cottonwoods stood somnolent and still
Beneath the sun.