Thursday, May 10, 2012
The Winter Harvest Comments
Rating: ★2.7
Between the blackened curbs lie stacked the harvest of the skies,
Long lines of frozen, grimy cocks befouled by city feet;
On either side the racing throngs, the crowding cliffs, the cries,
And ceaseless winds that eddy down to whip the iron street.
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8/22/2025 7:18:48 PM # 1.0.0
I learned this poem in high school in the late 1950s, and always loved it. My guess is that it was written during Roberts' brief time in British Columbia, when his first wife died. Now it also speaks to me of grief, and the healing power of nature and physical work.