Sitting in a children’s circle, one began:
“I am going on a trip, and I am packing into
My suitcase … an apple.” And the second child
Repeated, added.

So, I’m telling you,
Them shoes you wearing,
Them ugly shoes caked with concrete and torn up,
If you was married, you’d be wearing better shoes.

I stand in the evening wind
Just outside my barn,
On four boards facing west
By rose bushes piled high, almost in bloom,