American Gothic

By William Stafford

If we see better through tiny,

grim glasses, we like to wear

tiny, grim glasses.

Our parents willed us this

view. It's tundra? We love it.

We travel our kind of

Renaissance: barnfuls of hay,

whole voyages of corn, and

a book that flickers its

halo in the parlor.

Poverty plus confidence equals

pioneers. We never doubted.