Stephen Sandy Poems

Hard to believe the racket geese make, squabbling,
holding a confab in the dark--pitch dark to him
padding back to check the lights; yes, the windows
are dark.
...

When the war came that year it was the fashion to place
a light in the window then lights went on each night to give
...

When I was a kid taken to the best end of the lake,
the raked gravel of someone's circular drive
—always rustling evenly under the tires
...

Back of the church the busy forsythias bow
and scrape to May and all these blessed stones
stiff in their careful finery of words;
...