Poem of the Week: “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” by Robert Frost

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening Whose woods these are I think I know.   His house is in the village though;   He will not see me stopping here   To watch his woods fill up with snow.    My little horse must think it queer   To stop without a farmhouse near   Between the woods and frozen lake   The darkest evening of the

Poem of the Week: “At Winter Solstice” by Colleen Anderson

This week, we thought this previous poem of the week deserved a repeat appearance. With wishes for peace and joy to you and yours this holiday season and in the new year, the RCAH Center for Poetry at MSU.   At Winter Solstice My lawn is deep in brittle maple leaves huddled against the house,

Poem of the Week: “Why is the Color of Snow?” by Brenda Shaughnessy

Why is the Color of Snow? ~Brenda Shaughnessy   Let’s ask a poet with no way of knowing. Someone who can give us an answer, another duplicity to help double the world.   What kind of poetry is all question, anyway? Each question leads to an iceburn, a snownova, a single bed spinning in space.