My interpretation was completely different than what I had rehearsed with Ms. Streeter. I could feel what was going on in the poem. When I finished my...recitation, Sam was openly weeping. I guess I was, too."Brian Frost," the lead judge called me to the podium. I took my papers with me to the podium, then ignored them."Fair Trade, by Nat Hart," I said softly."Speak up, please," a judge said. "There is a microphone if you desire it." I nodded and cleared my throat. Then started over. Before I was. He unsaddled our horses and hobbled them near a stone fence, then took the blankets and his saddlebags and led me to a spot some feet away, in the sunlight. I smiled as he set the blankets out, opening them and spreading them on the ground, then joined him as he pulled a bottle of wine and a corkscrew from his bags.“I shall have to apologize to Siobhan, won’t I?” I asked with a wry smile.“I think that would be a good thing,” he answered.“I was rather harsh on her, wasn’t I?”“Very harsh,. More

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