Walking the Butter Mill Trail

By Samuel Schaefer

“I sometimes think I don’t belong here/in this wood–that the tree’s knots/are frowns grown for me, or the leaf crunch/is a worm cracking a crass joke at my expense.”

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Publisher's Note:

This work is preserved in Merion West’s archive of articles and poems published from 2016 through early 2025. Explore the archive