William Stafford

(January 17, 1914 – August 28, 1993 / Kansas)

Graydigger's Home - Poem by William Stafford

Paw marks near one burrow show Graydigger
at home, I bend low, from down there swivel
my head, grasstop level--the world
goes on forever, the mountains a bigger
burrow, their snow like last winter. From a room
inside the world even the strongest wind
has a soft sound: a new house will hide
in the grass; footsteps are only the summer people.

The real estate agent is saying, "Utilities . . .
easy payments, a view." I see
my prints in the dirt. Out there
in the wind we talk about credit, security--
there on the bank by Graydigger's home.


Comments about Graydigger's Home by William Stafford

  • Bronze Star - 2,533 Points john tiong chunghoo (3/25/2006 12:21:00 AM)

    yes, modern living.

    stress
    i destress by not
    thinking bill, work (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: home, wind, winter, snow, summer, house, people, world



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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