For Jennifer, 6, on the Teton

Somewhere in the late 1970s, while browsing through a bookstore in Helena, Montana, I found a collection of his poems titled What Thou Lovest Well Remains American.  Inside the book, written by Richard Hugo, a poet teaching at the University of Montana, I found the most remarkable verses.

Hugo gave voice to the working man.  He wrote poems about drinking in local bars.  He wrote poems about towns, rivers, and places in Montana I knew.

I found myself intrigued.   I stood there in the bookstore reading and reading and reading the book.  Then I turned to a poem titled For Jennifer, 6, on the Teton.  I paused for a long time after reading the first stanza:

“These open years, the river

sings 'Jennifer Jennifer.'

Riverbeds are where we run to learn

laws of bounce and run.

You know moon. You know your name is silver.”

I read the lines again.  And again.  I felt I was reading a kind of music.

I purchased the book.   A week later, I found more books of poems by Hugo.

Today, on the bookshelves in my den, you will find a shelf dedicated to contemporary poetry.  After reading Hugo, I wanted to hear more from other voices.

Simple, gorgeous words.

“You know your name is silver.”    

—Mitchell Hegman