I know this sounds totally unpoetic, but I can't help myself because it was my first thought upon finishing this poem: It's like Shakespeare and Frost had a baby, and that baby is this poem. Or maybe it's not *quite* like that because of course this poem, like all of your poems, has a distinct "Ben" feel to it. You've dissected the classics, learned from them, and shaped them into your own, producing your own timeless approach to poetry. You are immensely talented, friend. You breathe life into the bones of classic forms. We're fortunate to have your work on PnQ!