Best Coopers Poems

Smote the ‘lump’ upon the ‘drive’
The ancient oak did groan,
Smote it down a second time –
And not a stave did moan.

Riven hard and driven tight
The chime hoop bore the load,
Its rivets creaked; an iron child -
Born of Hells hot forge.

The ‘Barrels’ calloused hand aloft,
Like child...

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I sit under the trees

Later
My neighbor said
“I enjoyed watching you pray.”

“What do you mean?”

“You sat there so still
Head tilted up for a very long time.”

“I suppose so
But actually I was entranced
By the crowns of the Oaks sweeping the sky
And that Cooper’s Hawk nest along for...

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