I wrote this poem after a visit to Robert Frost’s house in Shaftsbury, VT.
At Mr. Frost’s
Bathed in
autumn
sunlight
on a
table rock
in the fallow field
behind
Robert Frost’s
stone house,
I’m reminded
of the poet’s
advice
to not press
the poems
too hard.
Sometimes sunlight
is just that,
and fallow fields
need only
sun, seeds,
water
and time.
Excellent poem.
Frost would have loved it Jason.
BF
Thanks, Barbara!