m. f. nagel
Cast a cold eye on life
On death,
Horseman pass by.
Yeats’ epitaph.
When passing by Yeats’s grave
On the ides of March
Where the seven ancient forests join.
I saw
The first patch of brown
Rise
Rise
From its winterself.
When passing by
Yeats’s grave
I saw
The four horsemen of the apocalypse.
A monument
all
Grey leaf and stick
With which
The summer birds Will build their nests.
When passing by Yeats’s grave
on the ides of March
***
m.f. nagel was born in anchorage Alaska, her love of poetry is a gift shared, from her Athabaskan and Eyak heritage. m.f. now lives and writes near the banks of the Matanuska river in the Palmer Butte, Alaska, where the moose, wild dog~roses and salmonberries provide unending joy and inspiration.