Off to open houses – here’s Walt’s favorite poem to contemplate while I’m gone

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Hay for the Horses

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  He had driven half the night
From far down San Joaquin
Through Mariposa, up the
Dangerous Mountain roads,
And pulled in at eight a.m.
With his big truckload of hay
behind the barn.
With winch and ropes and hooks
We stacked the bales up clean
To splintery redwood rafters
High in the dark, flecks of alfalfa
Whirling through shingle-cracks of light,
Itch of haydust in the
sweaty shirt and shoes.
At lunchtime under Black oak
Out in the hot corral,
—The old mare nosing lunchpails,
Grasshoppers crackling in the weeds—
“I’m sixty-eight” he said,
“I first bucked hay when I was seventeen.
I thought, that day I started,
I sure would hate to do this all my life.
And dammit, that’s just what
I’ve gone and done.”

Gary Snyder

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One response to “Off to open houses – here’s Walt’s favorite poem to contemplate while I’m gone

  1. Fake Walt

    I like this one too

    Gazing at the computer screen
    Is the Internet investment scene.
    In the eye are hopeful gleams
    In rising stocks I’ll earn my dreams.

    Which one to choose, the choice is many.
    Shall I buy some, or one, or any?
    Uncertainty – too soon, too late.
    My order’s done and now I wait.

    Excitement comes, I own a piece
    Of Bernard L. Madoff Investment Securities
    The greatest Hedge fund, and I’m proud
    To be an owner, I’m on a cloud.

    But what’s this now? When next I face
    The glowing screen, I’ve lost the race.
    My shares have dropped, a downward graph
    (It’s very well for you to laugh)

    It’s all a game of win or loss.
    I’ll study still the pitch and toss.
    Consult the sage for rise and fall
    The “Mirror, Mirror on the wall”

    Off to Lisbon

    Kind Regards,

    Fake Walt