Mid-September, Newburyport Harbor
From shore I watch the empty passage;
all the boats are moored in harbor.
Two blue herons fill the morning
chill with inescapable wing spans.
River grass is turning brown.
The goldenrod is going down.
~Son Rivers 2008
FRESH POSSIBILITIES
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Today we will look at a seasonal poem by A. E. Housman, taking it verse by
verse. XVI — SPRING MORNING Star and coronal and bellApril underfoot
renews,And ...
3 weeks ago

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