Olga Kronmeyer

The Gift Regained

Robert Frost heard the stones sing in the earth.
His spade unearthed New Hampshire soil and found
a dream, a world of unending fullness, something
his soul created; something his spirit
fused with life. But he lost his dream when his
spirit waned in his body and shards of stone
did not sing. For the land would waste until
it soaked in blood, until the flesh of unequals
became more equal, even in stony graves.
Then the stones would waken his tragic muse
and he dreamed of soaring mountains and great
stones sliding down singing the stories of strangers
and natives—all desiring the spirits of earth.
The unsullied western skies demanded blood.
The dream of earth promised no Eden.


They move into a small drab house.
Her ponytail hangs loose.
He limps around a shaky ladder
And they bring her old mother.
They walk into a steepled house.
Its stained rays press their clothes.
Their songs batter the angels
And once they bring her mother.
They hope as storms tear up their house.
He limps up his strong ladder.
She holds boards against the roof.
And her old mother whistles.
The shabby house spreads out three rooms.
He patches and patches the roof.
She washes two new picture windows,
And a dog watches the old mother.
They move in and out the great church.
She cooks the Christmas stuffing.
His knife carves his pocket. They leave
for good with the whistling mother.

The Unity of Creation

That untaught crow believes he is inflicted
with a human disease. Every morning,
when I open the door to the dutiful sun,
he sits on the highest tip of an oak and caws
the blackness, scattering the kingdon of birds
and their songs, He caws the end of the world
until I shut the door and seek the saneness
of a sunlit room. At noon I slip through the door
and count on the brilliant sun to silence
creation. A faint rain falls; the sun is busy
generating its evening names
while thirsty crows, not mindful of their blackness,
drink in the fields, and I bless the shadows.

About the Author

Olga Kronmeyer, a native of the Catskill area is the editor of The 2007 Alchemist, an anthology of poems of the Alchemy Club, a group of poets, based in Grahamsville, NY.

(click here to close this window)