Poisha Yungen Poems

Where weeping willows brush the snow
Light-falling from the powdered sky
As Mother Hulda makes her bed -
Wisp-feathered love soft-falls from high
...

My ears are quite open
To what you confess
Pray, am I worth more now?
Or are you worth less?
...

Beats flutter
On highways oft traveled
Borne loft on an air
That weaves in the Distance –
...

The clouds take on red-rosy tints
And blush below the sun’s soft gaze
They glow beneath its dying rays
And blithely flash the borrowed glints
...

The core ere trodden once upon
Is consecrated, hallowed
Until another’s footsteps mark
It, like the fields, lies fallow
...