Snow

John La Farge (March 31, 1835 – November 14, 1910)

 

Snow

Snow is what it does.
It falls and it stays and it goes.
It melts and it is here somewhere.
We all will get there.


Frederick Seidel (b. 1936)

 

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Published in: on March 11, 2017 at 7:13 pm  Comments (1)  
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Wintu

Beatrix Whistler blackberriesBlackberries,
Beatrix Whistler (1857–1896)


We shake down acorns and pinenuts.  We don’t chop down the trees.
– Wintu Indian

Thirteen Blackbirds Look at a Man

bloemart Abraham Bloemaert (1566 – 1651)

1
It is calm.
It is as though
we lived in a garden
that had not yet arrived
at the knowledge of
good and evil.
But there is a man in it.
2
There will be
rain falling vertically
from an indifferent
sky. There will stare out
from behind its
bars the face of the man
who is not enjoying it.
3
Nothing higher
than a blackberry
bush. As the sun comes up
fresh, what is the darkness
stretching from horizon
to horizon? It is the shadow
here of the forked man.
4
We have eaten
the blackberries and spat out
the seeds, but they lie
glittering like the eyes of a man.
5
After we have stopped
singing, the garden is disturbed
by echoes; it is
the man whistling, expecting
everything to come to him.
6
We wipe our beaks
on the branches
wasting the dawn’s
jewellery to get rid
of the taste of a man.
7
Neverthless,
which is not the case
with a man, our
bills give us no trouble.
8
Who said the
number was unlucky?
It was a man, who,
trying to pass us,
had his licence endorsed
thirteen times.
9
In the cool
of the day the garden
seems given over
to blackbirds. Yet
we know also that somewhere
there is a man in hiding.
10
To us there are
eggs and there are
blackbirds. But there is the man,
too, trying without feathers
to incubate a solution.
11
We spread our
wings, reticulating
our air-space. A man stands
under us and worries
at his ability to do the same.
12
When night comes
like a visitor
from outer space
we stop our ears
lest we should hear tell
of the man in the moon.
13
Summer is
at an end. The migrants
depart. When they return
in spring to the garden,
will there be a man among them?

R. S. Thomas (29 March 1913 – 25 September 2000)

Tree At My Window

Study of the Trunk of an Elm Tree' John Constable,Study of the Trunk of an Elm Tree,  John Constable (1776 – 1837)

 

Tree At My Window

Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.

Vague dream head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.

But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.

That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.

 

Robert Frost   (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)

 

Published in: on March 28, 2014 at 11:19 pm  Comments (5)  
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