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Photo license: © All rights reserved
This is a photo of the original in his own hand, hanging at his Derry NH farm.
A Cloud Shadow - Robert Frost
A breeze discovered my open book
And began to flutter the leaves to look
For a poem there used to be on Spring.
I tried to tell her "There's no such thing!"
For whom would a poem on Spring be by?
The breeze disdained to make reply;
And a cloud shadow crossed her face
For fear I would make her miss the place.
"Poets are like baseball pitchers. Both have their moments. The intervals are the tough things.
In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.
I hear everything I write. All poetry is to me first a matter of sound.
Most folks are poets. If they were not, some of us would have no one to read what we write. Perhaps a few of us specialize just a little more, that is all.
A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom." Robert Frost
Also by David Lee Tiller
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