WEBVTT

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Here's a poem called "The
Versatile Historian."

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I came through autumn forest.

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Needing wind that needed fire.

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Sun on larch, fir.

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The ponderosa told me to forget
the friends I needed years ago.

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Sky is all the rage, in
countries steeped in lore.

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The troubled Indians
wise within their graves.

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I sang of trouble to the north.

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Sleeping weasels robed
my song of real words.

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Everywhere rhythm raged.

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Sun beneath my feet, I became
the statue needing friends

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and wind that needed fire.

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Mountains to bang against.

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