Tom Montag



Bent as Trees



Bent as trees
bend in wind,
the white sky
weighing them.

Nothing from here
is carried there.
Nothing from there
but rain and wind.

Let me sing the
late afternoon
til the sad light

dies. Let me hope
for a silence
that takes all night.






Grey Morning



Coolness after a
run of hot days. If

we should sing, it would
be of water, light.





These Things



Red-tail hawk.
Light into the bark of trees.
The stars.

These things which own us,
they don’t let go.





Tom Montag head shot


Tom Montag is most recently the author of In This Place: Selected Poems 1982-2013. He is a contributing writer at Verse-Virtual. In 2015, he was the featured poet at Atticus Review (April) and Contemporary American Voices (August) and at year’s end received Pushcart Prize nominations from Provo Canyon Review and Blue Heron Review.