poetry

As the young, slight, male manicuristdeftly massages my hand, we turn our headsin opposite directions as if such pleasurebetween strangers were unseemly in light

Please be advised that snow globes are not allowed through the security check point.                                                           —LaGuardia Airport sign

The children are back, the children are back—

They’ve come to take refuge, exhale and unpack;

The marriage has faltered, the job has gone bad,

Wisconsin Academy Fellow and poet Robin Chapman shares two poems about the same piece of land in Wisconsin’s Marquette County, written thirty years apart, that visit and revisit a hillside remnant prairie and oak woods about two miles from naturalist John Muir’s boyhood home.