DPF / Tate

For magicians, from The Eternal Ones of the Dream.

from Saturdays Are for Bathing Betsy / by James Tate

How each sort of animal and
plant prevents itself from returning to dust
just a little while longer while I transfer some
assets to a region where there are no thinking creatures,
just worshipping ones. They oscillate along like magicians,
deranged seaweed fellows and their gals

DPF / Anonymous

PIA: November 28, 2015.

For wishes, from poetryfoundation.org.

from Star light, star bright / by Anonymous

Star light, star bright,
First star I see tonight

DPF / Xu

PIA: from November 30, 2014.

For seasons, from Poetry, December 2014.

from The Forecast / by Wendy Xu b. 1987

little shimmer, little wilt startled
from out the arranging field

DPF / Tennyson

For a Tennyson kind of day, from Tennyson’s Poems, 1863.

from Sea Dreams. An Idyl. / by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Birdie, rest a little longer,
Till the little wings are stronger.

DPF / Herrick

For honoring whatever you believe in, from a poet who believes in God, for Thanksgiving, from poetryfoundation.org.

from A Thanksgiving to God, for his House / by Robert Herrick (1591–1674)

Lord, Thou hast given me a cell
         Wherein to dwell,
A little house, whose humble roof
         Is weather-proof:
Under the spars of which I lie
         Both soft, and dry;
Where Thou my chamber for to ward
         Hast set a guard
Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep
         Me, while I sleep.

DPF / Ridlon

For runners big and small, from The Twentieth Century Children’s Treasury, edited by Jack Prelutsky, and illustrated by Meilo So.

from Running Song / by Marci Ridlon

How the trees are
whizzing by.
Rushing rivers
run forever.
May I can
if I try.

DPF / Hughes

For another rain dance for our empty canals, from Lupercal.

from Crow Hill / by Ted Hughes

The farms are oozing craters in
Sheer sides under the sodden moors:
When it is not wind it is rain

DPF / Plath

PIA: from an October 27.

For the season, from Ariel.

from The Moon and the Yew Tree / by Sylvia Plath

This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary.
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.

DPF / Lowell

For spaceships? from poetryfoundation.org.

from Aliens / by Amy Lowell

The chatter of little people
Breaks on my purpose
Like the water-drops which slowly wear the rocks to powder.

DPF / Collins

For the season, from Poetry, April 2016.

from “Leaving Behind” / by Martha Collins
outside my window: locust, cloth

of gold   on the ground: its yellow

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