By George Mills

Travellers crossing barren land

pile up stones

to mark the way.

They fill their hands

with the furious love

of stones.

When night comes they lie down

with stones

& pull the stars

like dead leaves

over them.

They dream of ways

to patch the dark

with something other

than the light.

George Mills

A retired anthropology professor turned landscaper, the quixotic George Mills was a

well-loved figure in the Vineyard poetry community. Until his death in 2001, George and

his wife Florrie shared a small home in Oak Bluffs where they hosted frequent gatherings

of poets, musicians, activists, and other thinkers.