‘Glad of the burn’
“I crouch down in blank
snow, glad of the burn
of cold air in the west,
the border of trees
black and still.’’
— From “Beginner’s Mind,’’ by Margaret Gibson (born 1944). She’s poet laureate of Connecticut and an emeritus professor at the University of Connecticut. She lives in Preston, Conn.
‘Grand and numb’
“Now morning
snow falls like sand in an hourglass
close-up. History is pain in movement,
Burkhardt said. It was his face in the dream.
My feet touch the cold floor. I move into a day
that opens like any other in history, grand and numb.’’
From “Cold Wars Inside,’’ by Margaret Gibson (born 1944), Connecticut’s current poet laureate. She teaches at the University of Connecticut and lives in Preston, Conn.
Owaneco, son of the Mohegan sachem Uncas, gave a confirmatory deed for the land of what became Preston in 1687. In October of that same year, the town was incorporated as Preston, named for the English city of Preston, Lancashire, England, whence came some of the white settlers.
Early trades in the area included shoe making, metal smithing and brickmaking.
Fresh as a new year
“Last night the first light frost, and now sycamore
and sumac edge yellow and red in low sun
and Indian afternoons. One after another
roads thicken with leaves and the wind
sweeps them fresh as the start of a year…’’
— From “Long Walks in the Afternoon,’’ by Margaret Gibson (born 1944), a former Connecticut poet laureate. She lives in Preston, Conn., in the southeastern part of the state.