Howard Nemerov Poems
|42.||The View From An Attic Window||4/15/2010|
|43.||The War In The Air||4/15/2010|
|45.||To D—, Dead By Her Own Hand||4/15/2010|
|46.||To David, About His Education||5/3/2012|
|47.||Walking The Dog||1/3/2003|
|48.||Witnessing The Launch Of The Shuttle Atlantis||5/3/2012|
Because You Asked About The Line Between Prose And Poetry
Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle
That while you watched turned into pieces of snow
Riding a gradient invisible
From silver aslant to random, white, and slow.
There came a moment that you couldn't tell.
And then they clearly flew instead of fell.
A Spell Before Winter
After the red leaf and the gold have gone,
Brought down by the wind, then by hammering rain
Bruised and discolored, when October's flame
Goes blue to guttering in the cusp, this land
Sinks deeper into silence, darker into shade.
There is a knowledge in the look of things,
The old hills hunch before the north wind blows.
Now I can see certain simplicities