DPF / Holmes

Dear Poetry Followers, this one’s for Ms. Dickinson, from THE MS OF MY KIN.

from 1862.29 / by Janet Holmes

          who heard
                the Birds

          knew

    No one could
              perfect
that

                   Eden —

DPF / Ruefle

Dear Poetry Followers, this one’s for the clock, which gets a starring role this upcoming weekend, from The Most of It.

from My Pet, My Clock / by Mary Ruefle

A clock, on the other hand and against all appearances, is a very poor way to tell time, for all it does is sit there or hang on the wall, and very seldom does it do anything of itself to remind you of time.

DPF / Logan

Dear Poetry Followers, here’s a fragment from a new book published just this month; it’s from one of our favorite Floridians, and from the book, Rift of Light.

from Complaint / by William Logan

If there are dream houses,
are there undreamed houses

full of the things we desire
or only those we deserve?

DPF / Frost

Dear Poetry Followers, with all that these days bring in near and far-flung crises, may poetry bring some small blessings to shed light where there seems to be none, from poetryfoundation.org.

from October / by Robert Frost

O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;

One from our trees, one far away.

DPF / Cummings

For you, dear poetry followers (dpf’s)! who have taken the time to choose to follow, I hope you will not mind me morphing this poetry space from daily to weekly and for not closing a door, but opening a new kind of window, from Selected Poems.

from 5 / by e. e. cummings

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea

DPF / Gallaher

For dogs, from Copper Nickel 25.

from It’s Not About Figuring out What We Want, But About Figuring Out What’s Worth Wanting / by John Gallaher

The other day my dog, our dog, the family dog, looked back at me

from the landing on the stairs. It’s as far up as he’s allowed to go.

DPF / Glück

For fairy tale and for this time of year from a favorite poem and from Poems 1962-2012.

from All Hallows / by Louise Glück

Even now this landscape is assembling.
The hills darken. The oxen
sleep in their blue yoke,
the fields having been
picked clean, the sheaves
bound evenly and piled at the roadside
among cinquefoil, as the toothed moon rises