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Iowa Skies

Iowa skies at night—full of white stars (hot, they tell me, but looking cool)— gnarled oak, jackpine and cedar struggling—hanging on for life— in and on the limestone bluffs that line the Shell Rock River, and my breath cloud at 5:00 AM like Baez at Woodstock have in common: Being Beautiful and reminding Me of ...

A Refrain Recalled

for A. A. C. “In the brave days of old,” I said at each stanza's end. I read from a book, in the cold, at a meeting of friends. I remember one thing clearly from all that I read in the cold: you murmured the last line with me, In the brave days of old.   by Amos J. Hunt This poem first ran in the ...