“Herr Bierstadt”

By Thomas Page

I am student teaching a senior level class in Washington, DC. They have to write some poems on these prompts. I decided to try all 30 of them. However, I will not say what the prompt was but what it number was.

Prompt #15

Forging the heavens out of pigments

Of mountains that include every season

And water sweet as a fairy’s bench

Falling into the golden spiral

Flanked by the Christmas’d trees

Topped with a light dusting

Contrasted with the vibrancy of red and orange

Captured with Keats’ urn

Flanked by yellow and green

Along the banks of the lake

Burning with a fiery reflection

Snuffed by the island of Yeats’ liking

Without the buzz of bees and flies.

Herr Bierstadt

When can I go there?