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The Little Review
Making No Compromises With the Public Taste
Poem for Friday, The 100, Franklin Institute 
Friday, 10th February 2017 12:11 am

Still Life
By Carl Sandburg

Cool your heels on the rail of an observation car.
Let the engineer open her up for ninety miles an hour.
Take in the prairie right and left, rolling land and new hay crops, swaths of new hay laid in the sun.
A gray village flecks by and the horses hitched in front of the post-office never blink an eye.
A barnyard and fifteen Holstein cows, dabs of white on a black wall map, never blink an eye.
A signalman in a tower, the outpost of Kansas City, keeps his place at a window with the serenity of a bronze statue on a dark night when lovers pass whispering.


Thursday was a day of bright blue skies interspersed with high winds and snow squalls -- nothing stuck, but a couple of times it was coming down so hard that it looked like heavy fog had surrounded us and was spitting out flakes. Maddy went with Alice to get manicures while I tested Kindle video apps, then I went to meet them at Starbucks for brunch while Paul had lunch with former colleagues. Later, we went to Giant and CVS together.

My neighborhood has had several Valentine Lickitungs and I need only five more Jigglypuffs to get my fairy gold medal. Maddy went to dinner and a movie with friends; I had a bunch of work to catch up on after dinner (leftover Indian), then we watched this week's Nashville, which was so meh I don't even remember what happened, and The 100, which was completely awesome in that Marcus and Abby went to bed together! From the Franklin Institute:

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