Poem of the Week: From New Hampshire by Rosanna Warren

  It’s not your mountain
     but I almost expect
     to meet you here

I think you have taken a long late evening walk
Your heavy shoes glisten with dew
I hear your footsteps pause on the dirt road

     and I know you are picking out
     the dark mass of the sleeping
     mountain from the dark

mass of night and testing the heaviness of each
Your hands are small but they know weights and measures
You are a connoisseur of boundaries

     You loved the bears
     because they pass between
     leaving their stories

in fat pudding turds on the grass
Here it’s raspberries they’re after not our
sour Vermont apples     No matter     You will find them

     When they hoot in courtship
     you always hoot back
     more owl than bear

They don’t mind     They always answer you
And tonight I imagine you’re out waiting up for them
by the berries, which is why you don’t cross

     the dew-sopped lawn
     don’t press open the
     warped screen door

of the kitchen where I sit late     by a single glowing bulb

For more information on Rosanna Warren, please click here: http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/188

Many thanks to Alison McGhee for her thoughtful curation of these beautiful poems.

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Alison-McGhee/119862491361265?ref=ts

Blog: alisonmcghee.com/blog

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