The Hardy Garden

The Hardy Garden

Now let forever the phlox and the rose be tended
Here where the rain has darkened and the sun has dried
So many times the terrace, yet is love unended,
Love has not died.

--Edna St. Vincent Millay

Kayaking on the Sacandaga sunset

coffee....

Taken in Ithaca, New York

Millay at Steepletop Poetry Workshop

The first public readings of new poems developed
at the

Millay at Steepletop Poetry Workshop

James S. Lonergan (Kingston, NY)

Derek Mong (Williamstown, MA)

J. Daniel Beaudry (New Lebanon, NY)

Terry Trask (S. Egremont, MA)

Heather M. Moore Niver (Valatie, NY)

J. Peter Bergman (Pittsfield, MA)

Carol Derfner (Kinderhook, NY)

New poetry developed in the Workshop

and other pieces by these seven poets from around the region and across the border

will be presented at

...

The Thaddeus Clapp House

74 Wendell Avenue

Pittsfield, MA

at 4PM

Sunday, June 1

FREE ADMISSION

REFRESHMENTS

The Spencertown Academy

790 Route 203

Spencertown, NY

at 7PM

Friday, June 6

FREE ADMISSION

REFRESHMENTS

For information or directions call the Edna St. Vincent Millay Society

at 518-392-EDNA (3362)

socks in progress

This dreamy, buttery yarn is spun & dyed
by the divine misshawklet herself.
It's 85% wool, 15% mohair.

do you miss winter?

gnarled iced apple orchard

some cowboy poetry. kinda

Spilling

You lounge,

cowboy still,

lips parting

only

for the moment

you lift

that tall iced

tea from a long

pleated knee.

Leaving

me, never

comfortable

with the curve

of a vowel

or a hip,

to rattle on,

tongue fluttering

like a curtain in the wind

as the storm rolls

in. So come on

now, Cowboy.

Spill it.


HMMooreNiver

"...In you not fourscore years can dim the flame..."

[Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome]
by Christina Rossetti

Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome
Has many sonnets: so here now shall be
One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me
To her whose heart is my heart’s quiet home,
To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee
I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;
Whose service is my special dignity,
And she my loadstar while I go and come
And so because you love me, and because
I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath
Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honored name:
In you not fourscore years can dim the flame
Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws
Of time and change and mortal life and death.