Whistle Poem by Jared Carter
Whistle
That sang each day at six,
and noon, and six again;
That called the men to work,
and sent them home, and gave
The town a spine of sound
that all could recognize
The way the milkman's horse
knew every stop along the street.
First published in At the Edge of the Prairie.
Sunday, May 21, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: community,horses,neighbors,nostalgia
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5/25/2024 4:25:41 AM # 1.0.0.1119
