Thursday, March 18, 2010


I read poems

Until the day was late

The windows all black

That world was gone

The woodfire was all the

Company a man would need

Except a dog was nearby and

Whenever I went to tend the fire

The dog thought I was reaching

For her, a genuine moment

Of intimacy

I read until I nearly drifted off —

It was then I thought of

Another poet from another

Time I knew as a friend and

How when visiting with him

He would step outside the door

Of his house and while in his yard

And a view to the surrounding

Hills and sweep of farmland

He would speak by heart the

Poems of Robert Frost

Who cares now? No one —

The poet I visited ended up

In a nursing home and one day

I called him to share the news of the

Death of a dear mutual friend, also a poet

Who had a falling out with this friend but

He needed to know, and someone said he would

Come to the phone and I waited for a very long

Time not quite imagining he would ever be there

Until what sounded like crutches, pausing, and the

Voice that once recited Frost from his heart said hello

from Invent A World by Bob Arnold (Mountains & Rivers Press)

photo © bob arnold