Stanley Watson Poems

If I were a rider with desert to cross,
I would seek the Grandest Horse,
To carry me through the roughest terrain--
The heat in the south, the freeze and the rain --
...

Rolling green, before me spread.
Entices me to look --
Just beyond the meadow --
Where a fawn is being born.
...

Your scanning eye doth ever see
The stalker of the chickadee--
Ah bluejay, in beauty bright,
A watchman of the feeder be --
...