Best Hewn Poems

It was cut down in eighteen hundred seven,
a chestnut tall, stretched half to heaven,
hand-hewn with axes by Georgia pioneers,
to build up a barn for pigs and steers.

Still standing today, a miracle that,
browned by time, spans spaces vast,
the mere size of the log does amaze,
you just...

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While the milk cow hastens 
Toward a worn barn,
Gray as the edges of melancholy,
Erasing the spring, breaking through Summer
Like Sunday, wearing her best suit
Rustling on the wings of Saturday’s robins,
Starving for Monday, while her words
Still the grief that comes from knowing
The week behind her will...

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