A Roof
The campfire was dead
when he woke. He started
a small fire, brewed
the last of the coffee,
and saddled his horse.
He needed a roof over his
head. The vault of stars
arching the prairie would
soon disappear behind low
clouds and snow flakes.
posted by Lynn @ 11:25 AM
1 comments
1 Comments:
Hi Lynn
Thanks for the note this morning with all the info on Carver's poems. I know what you mean when you say that it is hard to pick a favorite poem. Each time you read one, you are in a different place and it speaks to you in a new way doesn't it?
Poetry isn't just words afterall as Mary Oliver says "..it is ropes let down to the lost, bread in the pockets of the hungry and fires to warm the cold."
I went through my book this morning and read all the poems you listed and can see why they would be favorite ones to revisit again and again.
Sunday night is at the top of my list too. Such wise advice for any writer.
I am going to look for "A Book of Luminous Things" at the library when I get home. My copy of "All of Us" is a library book, but it is now on my "must have my own copy" list. I could spend the grocery money on books, so I loan them from the library first and then put them on a "must have" list if I will read them again and again. Carver's book is one of those books for sure.
Talk to you later. Sue
Post a Comment
<< Home