Author's Note When I was 70, I accepted my mistakes, mailed a few boxes to my son, Finn, sold what I couldn't carry, and left Maine. The first of these poems was written when I was realizing that it was time to go, the last, four years later. Taken together they are a grove of sorts, smaller and larger supporting each other in the weather of the times, a grove of song: praise and variations. The poems are set in Maine, Thailand, and Seattle.