And next year's words await another voice.
--- T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets
I'm going to put my hands to the earth this year -
pull the prairie grass,
bust the sod -
till the red dirt given to me by God
Then I'll till it and turn it with my tongue,
search my book of seeds till I find the ones
right for my mix
of shade and sun,
and I'll plant them there.
Dante, Dickinson, Shakespeare, and Poe.
Oliver, Angelou, Collins, and Lowell.
Poets and poets,
row on row -
with proper care
they'll take root in my oil patch rhyme,
and bloom new languages in my mind
if I dare
For Susie's prompt at Real Toads