We were alone one night on a long road in Montana. This was in wint… night, far to the stars. We had hi… my wife and I, and left our ride a… a crossing to go on. Tired and col…

The well rising without sound, the spring on a hillside, the plowshare brimming through dee… everywhere in the field— The sharp swallows in their swerve

Anyone with quiet pace who walks a gray road in the West may hear a badger underground wher… in deep flint another time is Caught by flint and held forever,

Fog in the morning here will make some of the world far aw… and the near only a hint. But rain will feel its blind progress along… tapping to convert one boulder at…

Ours are the streets where Bess f… cancer. She went to work every day… secure houses. At her job in the l… she arranged better and better flo… students asked for books her hand…

The light by the barn that shines… pales at dawn when a little breeze… A little breeze comes breathing th… from their sleep and waking the sl… The slow windmill sings the long d…

My family slept those level miles but like a bell rung deep till daw… I drove down an aisle of sound, nothing real but in the bell, past the town where I was born.

We wondered what our walk should m… taking that un-march quietly; the sun stared at our signs—“Thou… Men by a tavern said, “Those fore… to a woman with a fur, who turned…

“The broken part heals even strong… the rest,” they say. But that takes awhile. And, “Hurry up,” the whole world… They tap their feet. And it still…

Mine was a Midwest home—you can k… Plain black hats rode the thoughts… We sang hymns in the house; the ro… The light bulb that hung in the pa… but we could read by it the names…

Traveling through the dark I foun… dead on the edge of the Wilson Ri… It is usually best to roll them in… that road is narrow; to swerve mig… By glow of the tail-light I stumb…