By Rumford and the lowly moth piano and the barn
that hum along the glazen air to beached sill and branched eve
in weary, fray their wings may fall
and mute the embers to a sleep.
What winged thing beguiled in the rain
can thicket in the clove and wood?
But dust, the ivory to a mothy lay
(is bread to Judas and his fools)
is flock to sleeping shepherds too
is boughs to hermit, fire, and thrush
that season in the dewy briar
and den amongst the downy bush
holding by a candled fire.
For thatch and moss may do what sun
and music do to spring
but when the song of rain dire
may the mantle be your eve.
Nick Sirianno MA ‘19 first came to Bread Loaf to attend the Orion Environmental Writers’ Conference, where he studied poetry under Maurice Manning.