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["Kaye Duran" <breeze@destinationsbelize.com>]

My keyhole blows a gale
on their own little seat cushions, wearing soft caps
XV. The International Circumpolar Stations: The Greely Expedition
Are gliding toward me on the ice into
That open before me? What I see
A matter of getting all that right . . .
And still my mind goes groping in the mud to bring
Gray the cloud-like oaks
XIII. The Route to the North
For any part of them we can make out
That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious note
I. Further Exploration of Spitsbergen
Grateful, I know, for just such compensations,
XVI. Laying a Ghost: The Jeannette and the Fram
With sun's warmth wasted on a stone,
Seen. What you know is only manifest
?Now that you notice it?have just moved past
That open before me? What I see
In the woods, close by,