When with me the play she goes,
I much admire the buds and bows
And all that on Kate’s headgear grows.
But when some other night I see
That hat between the stage and me,
My taste and Kate’s do not agree.
by Gregory OrrLong before dawn, anxiety has me
seated on the back porch
staring out to where yesterday
the woods were and now,
in the blackness, nothing is.
Under the noise of first birds
I hear what reassures ...