This poem is taken from PN Review 24, Volume 8 Number 4, March - April 1982.
Eight PoemsBetween Root and Sky
No, not more snow-just petals from a
Windblown
blackthorn settling in the wet ruts of the
lane.
Lichen
At all frontiers;
over the tundra;
above the treeline
where only the granite crops,
their blue-green frost
holds hard,
subdues bare stone,
battens on sour soil.
These are the pioneers,
mapping new ground,
flourishing their shields,
...
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