Remembering Mountain Men - William Stafford

"Bill," I say reaching for The New York Times, "would you have a poem handy?"

Bill replaced The Washington Post, picked up The New Yorker. "I never read this trite," he said. "Here's something."

Remembering Mountain Men

I put my foot in cold water
and hold it there: early morningst
hey had to wade through broken ice
to find the traps in the deep channel
with their hands, drag up the chains and
the drowned beaver. The slow current
of the life below tugs at me all day.
When I dream at night, they save a place for me,
no matter how small, somewhere by the fire.

William Stafford