Bitter land sheathed in white robes
empty of sound but for the crack of ice
too long the time for robes
too long the driest of food
oh sing of the warming land
and of life when water flows again
of birds that give thanks to the sun
and children laugh
From Stone Bear’s ‘first poems’
1958 Hardin Montana
Where are you all, (You can’t all be taking baths at the same time, the stall’s too small!)
From Stone Bear’s ‘first poems’
1958 Hardin Montana
Excellent poem, thanks.