Home    |    Chicago Poems - Table of Contents      Biography      Book Store
Custom Search


 

NOON HOUR

SHE sits in the dust at the walls
     And makes cigars,
Bending at the bench
With fingers wage-anxious,
Changing her sweat for the day's pay.

Now the noon hour has come,
And she leans with her bare arms
On the window-sill over the river,
Leans and feels at her throat
Cool-moving things out of the free open ways:

At her throat and eyes and nostrils
The touch and the blowing cool
Of great free ways beyond the walls.

 

copyright© 1998   Andyy Barr Productions   -  All rights reserved
Carl Sandburg  Chicago Poems - Online Since Sept 1998
More Websites by Andyy Barr Productions

Idaho Artists On The Web   -   Game Room 2000   -   Play Free Online Games    -    Carl Sandburg's Chicago Poems