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…

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,

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

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…

When we first moved here, pulled the trees in around us, curled our backs to the wind, no one had ever hit the moon—no one. Now our trees are safer than the s…

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…

The only relics left are those lon… spangled seconds our school clock… when you crossed the social hall and we found each other alive, by our glances never to accept our…

Aristotle was a little man with eyes like a lizard, and he found a… down the midst of things, a smooth… much more important than the carve… on the coffins of the great.

This is the field where the battle… where the unknown soldier did not… This is the field where grass join… where no monument stands, and the only heroic thing is the s…

Most mornings I get away, slip ou… the door before light, set forth o… road, letting my feet find a caden… that softly carries me on. Nobody is up—all alone my journey begins.

Your exact errors make a music that nobody hears. Your straying feet find the great… walking alone. And you live on a world where stum…

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…