Donald Hall Poems
|1.||The Seventh Inning||10/5/2015|
|2.||Her Long Illness||4/24/2015|
|8.||The Painted Bed||3/16/2012|
|10.||Ox Cart Man||3/16/2012|
|11.||The Alligator Bride||1/3/2003|
|12.||Je Suis Une Table||1/3/2003|
|14.||The Man In The Dead Machine||1/3/2003|
|16.||Christmas Party At The South Danbury Church||1/3/2003|
|17.||Mount Kearsarge Shines||1/3/2003|
|20.||Name Of Horses||1/3/2003|
|22.||An Old Life||1/3/2003|
Comments about Donald Hall
An Old Life
Snow fell in the night.
At five-fifteen I woke to a bluish
mounded softness where
the Honda was. Cat fed and coffee made,
I broomed snow off the car
and drove to the Kearsarge Mini-Mart
before Amy opened
to yank my Globe out of the bundle.
Back, I set my cup of coffee
beside Jane, still half-asleep,
thanks in the aquamarine morning.
Then I sat in my blue chair
with blueberry bagels and strong
black coffee reading news,
the obits, the comics, and the sports.
Carrying my cup twenty feet,
I sat myself at the desk
A storm was coming, that was why it was dark. The wind was blowing the fronds of the palm trees off. They were maples. I looked out the window across the big lawn. The house was huge, full of children and old people. The lion was loose. Either because of the wind, or by malevolent human energy, which is the same thing, the cage had come open. Suppose a child walked outside!
A child walked outside. I knew that I must protect him from the lion. I