The Sheepfold


Frost came finally into the cabin and bit by bit over the windows
The cataracts of snow with their dismantling shadows
Hands over all the things inside

As if dipped into the pool of earth from one above
And rank with inscrutable perfumes
Winter that year came with such a grace

For the beauty was fierce and kept at the heels
Of each soul-crushing thing—
To tend and herd the sorrows further in


Places I've Been

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