Poetry - Paris Gathering, 1962
The champagne we chilled right in the courtyard,
buried the bottles in the snow in clusters of four
according to their size and color: full amber, half green, quarter clear.
The Parisian winter had many uses but none more practical than this;
I just remembered that would have been your last winter.
It is good that it was a French winter, and not Russian,
otherwise you would not have liked snow so much.
In Colorado, Eli appointed to Senate seat
Williams: 'We're going to beat Harvard'
