they left Delphi crestfallen and slumped into the harness on the third morning, glanced at the mumbling woman and headed back to the farm
commentary:
looking northwest from the farm you can see where in another age the edge of a glacier left a row of rocks arrayed in a frozen line still marching south.
looking to the east you can still find the place where a train of oxen-drawn Conestogas stopped long enough for my great-grandmother to be born.
Part Two
the beginning of a scene
her wan smile rejects you, around it, the wind occurs— somewhere else, on another porch this night is not so particular
tell yourself that nature has no motives or conceits, that her hair only suggests the shape of the wind, that her eyes do little else than reflect the heavens
Locust Street
Shadows press into the ground, the black trees lay flat against the clouds; jackdaws arc above the rooftops then push into the wind toward the highest branches; a boy whirls around a tree, emulating their startled flight, then ambles toward his brothers by the lake.