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Coming back to the house through the
dark, 232
Cool air just arriving; half moon, 242
Crickets from where the hill is steep, 12
Darkness comes on..., 67
Dear Mother Muse, 175
Decrepit-looking, the elm, 266
Deep dusk, the quarter moon strong
enough now, 185
Doing my best, fi rst with the intricate, 61
Don't be a fool, leave the important
things, 5
Down off the burnt-off slope, 94
Driving down with KABC Sports-talk
on, 198
During that time he was nearing, 58
Dusk -- city and harbor lighting up
below..., 64
Dusk under fog; and under fog a mist, 181
Each of us varyingly, 114
Eastward goes, by wagon, 398
Eating alone, what shall I have along, 119
Edging between the truck, 262
-- evergreens gravely, 221
Fall came and he took a leave, 25
Fifty-one runs with nineteen and
twenty-three, 182
Flooded with moonlight..., 72
Forgot his notes? Over-confi dent?..., 63
For picking a high place, 21
For years this stream ran clear, 20
Fran and I much alone this bright mild
day, 200
From my researches, musings, 301
From the dark of the stacks, 375
From this retreating a glimpse, 56
Going to Pine Mountain again, 65
Gray inside, and the overcast, 80
Han Shan, old, in three poems, 9
Happy to fi nd myself among, 52
Hard wind, rain; I the only one out here,
Hartley, summer was plainly for you, 229
Have to fi nd me a clump of grass, 65
Hayt, Pitkin, Byers, Fisk, 319
Hearing him now on the car stereo, 52
Heavily from the shadeless plain to the
river, 289
He puts down his book..., 53
Here were no noises of high-up water, 56
He still has poems to write, 25
Home as are his brothers on a visit, 164
Home for the convalescence..., 162
Homesick, building a fl y rod on the
patio, 199
Home, then out of the canyon..., 178
Homeward, and how sudden, 231
However it may be with me, 168
How fi ne if Tsukioka..., 65
How much I missed this place..., 178
How strong the young tree is, and heavy,
I came down here one dusk and the
beach was gone, 210
I came in eighty-fi ve, but not for gold,
I could not see the life I live, 287
I'd read of the vast reptiles..., 287
I drive up on the headland, 282
...if time is friend, 248
I gave my blossoms and my fruit..., 278
I have come here late in the day, 100
I know the heron that's made this beach
his own, 211
I lie awake in the small hours, 68
I make out the white bulk in the dark, 220
In photographs the light fl ashes, 386
In the near dark two runners stagger in,
In this country, of the few, 254
In this fi fth year of drought, 59
I pick my way through a parking lot
nearly full, 193