Though once a letter-box, we read in verse,
Served as escape for one small gallant friend
Out to the rescuers and blustery winds,
Now let it as an entrance bring me joy
By bearing to my long-expectant eyes
Some faithul missive in a dear friend’s hand;
Though on the frightened poet of that rhyme
An armchair, tilting, fell and prisoned him
Until help came, let me in turn collapse
In such a chair, to gladly read awhile
The brighter news that she will have set down.
I began writing this months and months ago, probably on a particularly blustery morning this past spring—the extended allusion to Milne’s famous Pooh hum “Here Lies A Tree” is deliberate (I also recommend, if you can find it, by the way, the setting by Harold Fraser-Simson, which I know from the LP record “Three Cheers For Pooh” by Robert Tear and Philip Ledger)—and finished this poem earlier this week.
As always, I earnestly welcome your comments, suggestions, questions, critique, or other feedback about this or any other part of my work. (In other words, if you liked this poem, or you didn’t like it, or it made you think of something, or … please leave a comment to let me know.) If you liked this, you can also read other poems I’ve written here on my blog (starting with yesterday’s archive installment, since the full archive is by now, at over a hundred poems, somewhat daunting); I’d especially like to know which poems you think are my best.
This poem is also posted on my wiki.