Duane L. Herrmann Biography

A spot of red in the snow –
tiny, isolated,
easy to be missed.
...

Over the fields and prairie
creeks and tree lines
endless miles
of countryside,
...

I go across the prairie;
alone... to a place,
private...
not even I can enter.
...

I plow the paper with a pen
engaged as the family has been
in cultivation: sowing and reaping.
...

The heat had been forever:
constant oven-wind
shriveled leaves and trees.
...