The Lingerhut ~ Donald Morrill



It straddles the brook,

Holding its builder’s poem:

“On Doing Nothing;”


Four chairs, three empty—

Which is most alone? The hike

Yesterday is here,


Mud tracked from the Swag—

Such nonsense, this pretending

With screens on all sides!


But how many stones

Have you gotten to know? See,

Daddy longlegs gropes;


Carved from hemlock stump,

A cracking man considers

The bird of his hand;


I prefer my hosts’

Wine, the limbs sore from dancing

Past midnight; lean in,

Rhododendron, hear?

Women’s laughter up the hill—

Third day together . . .



for Helen & Peter Wallace

Cataloochee Ranch, NC