Playing Banjo – Ed Skoog 

Then put the banjo back in its case.
Close door against the city.

Make a rural sound. Be my key.
Close down the bar. Sing a round.


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Thanksgiving on the Line – James Galvin 

The Weatherman said, “Sunny statewide.”
The Weatherman lied.
The Medicine Bow grated snow down
Without even a storm to work with.

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Unfortunate Location – Louis Jenkins 

In the front yard there are three big white pines, older than any-
thing in the neighborhood except the stones. Magnificent trees that
toss their heads in the wind like the spirited black horses of a troika.

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The Garden – Helen Hoyt 

Do not fear.
The garden is yours

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