by C. S. Giscombe
The music I heard
in that Northern house
(it was an early evening
and a breeze came off the lake
and into the room
where I was)
I carried it all night
across half of Vermont
and back whole
into New York’s morning
where twenty miles from home
I watched it take the shape of rain
and move off across a field
near Whitehall.
Last updated February 21, 2023