The Butler Pennsylvania Poems
McKean Street Dream
In gentle sleep the downward
sweep
of tree-lined McKean Street
tilts centerward and glides
then rises gently up to where
the great gray ship, the church
rides carefree on waves
with surging mast and billowed sails
that touch our skymost bounds,
while behind the portly maples
across from it
the yellow brick school house
that used to be
still sits stranded, brooding
with ruler in hand,
earth-bound, tethered,
behind blunt Ionic columns.
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