Atop the rounded hill
Through the tall dark green pines
White, simple, modest, without pretense
Mimicking the man, the family living there
Three stories tall, seven bedrooms for dreaming
All woven as one on two hundred forty-eight priceless acres
Draped in nature’s earthy shades of green, brown, blue
Carl Sandburg’s home, Flat Rock, North Carolina
Named Connemara by its first owners
Meaning “of the sea” in Irish
A name the Sandburg family carried on
A national treasure in every way
Fourteen thousand books fill the walls
All read by the poet’s penetrating, dutiful eyes
Seeing through life’s clutter
Coming to rest always on what’s most important
His last ten books conceived, written at Connemara
That extra bedroom, even the living room, still speak the words
The typewriters, his favorite chairs, even the ashtrays
Remain filled with his spirit—
Known to us through Chicago, Grass, A Coin, his many other poems
I took pictures, but wanted to touch what he touched
And see what he saw, even the pain
Seeing his bed, I marveled at how his dreams came true
Leaving the grounds, I took one last picture
Of the lake before his home
I saw its unwavering stillness
How it reflected everything about it
I knew then why Sandburg’s last years were here
His conviction, strength, dedication
His inalienable sense of being a vehicle for beauty, truth, justice
Looking in these waters, it all became more clear to me
Poetic Alchemist 
Thanks Carla Sue and Dan. Much appreciated.
Ah…
nice.
This poem has some of the richest, wisest, deepest meaning I’ve read in a long while. To visually see where so much learning and giving took place is one thing, but to connect at the very souls is another. This poem has helped me connect and know more of why I want to spend my days living by the sea wrapped in the arms of nature. Thank you, Don, for sharing this with people such as myself who find it hard to put into words what I feel. Beautiful poetry from a most wise heart.