Abstract

An inner twilight deepens in the room: The smoky oil lamp pegged high on its stand, A child tucked-in beneath the blanketing beams, The shadowed mother mending in her chair. She pulls a woolen thread to close a seam In the work shirt of a father still afield Plowing his darkened rows until the stars Gleam twinkling from the yielding fertile earth. Behind the smoke that clusters into curls A bed whose drapes recall a garden wall Awaits her strong young husband and the night, Her warm wet furro...