DPF / Pavese

For rain, rain, rain which hides its face from us, from poetryfoundation.org.

from The Cats Will Know / by Cesare Pavese, translated by Geoffrey Brock

Rain will fall again
on your smooth pavement,
a light rain like
a breath or a step.
The breeze and the dawn
will flourish again
when you return,
as if beneath your step.
Between flowers and sills
the cats will know.

DPF / Ali

For rain, which we really, really need here, from poetryfoundation.org.

from Rain / by Kazim Ali, b. 1971

Over the echo of the water, I hear a voice saying my name.
No one in the city moves under the quick sightless rain.

The pages of my notebook soak, then curl. I’ve written:
“Yogis opened their mouths for hours to drink the rain.”

DPF / Kunitz

While this should be a “first-day-of-autumn” poem, as it turns out, it’s a last-day-of-summer poem for centenarians from a centenarian, from poetryfoundation.org.

from End of Summer / by Stanley Kunitz (1905-2006)

I stood in the disenchanted field
Amid the stubble and the stones,
Amazed, while a small worm lisped to me
The song of my marrow-bones.

DPF / Osherow

For Kandinsky, from poetryfoundation.org. The rest of the poem may be found here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/178480.

from Autumn Psalm / by Jacqueline Osherow, b.1956

For this, I would have to be Chinese,
Wang Wei, to be precise, on a mountain,
autumn rain converging on the trees,

a cassia flower nearby, a cloud, a pine,
washerwomen heading home for the day,
my senses and the mountain so entirely in tune

that when my stroke of blue arrives, I’m ready.
Though there is no rain here: the air’s shot through
with gold on golden leaves.