Home from the nightshift,
he watches the snow
as it blows and drifts
at the back doorstep,
and curses it to hell.
His workclothes smell
of sweat and the breath
of engines, as he takes
his shovel, shoulders it,
and goes out, tarnishing
the moonlight; miner
in a field of diamonds.
3 comments:
from Writing Poems by Robert Wallace
I loved this one! What others by her would you recommend?
I don't know of any others. It's noted in the book (Writing Poems) that she (Jeanne Frank) wrote this poem as a student.
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