Conservative

Conservative


Indiana felt the ice,
yet holds wide lakes against the pain;
I lived in Indiana once,
put these hands into the lakes
of counties near Fort Wayne.

You come a river, then our town
where summer domes the elms that hide
the river, which--a lurking home--
reflects in windows all the clouds
that drift that countryside.

All you live your city way:
you cannot hold thought ways
to hold the old way steady;
nowadays you cannot hear
the songs we sang or know
what glaciers told.

So I'll say this, then stand apart;
allegiant to where we lived,
all the way to cross my heart;
your years--these riffles atoms made--
and your map river carved

conceal a map new glaciers plan;
and there are rivers yet to come,
wide lakes again, and maybe
hands to dip like mine,
a voice to say:
"For towns, I'll take this one."


William Stafford

Posted over on William Stafford Archives