Is the moon to grow
Down the long course of the gray slush of things
Covering the land
Dreaming time has reversedand you,
II. List of Franklin Search Parties
That patch of white at the very end of the road
Where, as I discover as I go through
Or by the loud hand of painting, always puts.
The winter road from the St. Simeon farm
wonders if she'd ever be brave enough
Green lilac buds appear that won't survive
Trampled snow is the only rose.
Père and Mère Chose could be in conversation
Onto my frozen fingers.
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
Seen. What you know is only manifest
As if your absence now concluded long ago.
In the sound of the snow. What the countless
And melt the spirit; his mouth will distend