PIA: from August 17, 2014.
And, another poem in lieu of a rain dance. Like rain, miss you, Jane Kenyon. The rest of the poem, here:
http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/heavy-summer-rain
from Heavy Summer Rain / by Jane Kenyon (1947 – 1995)
Everything blooming bows down in the rain:
white irises, red peonies; and the poppies
PIA: from August 2, 2014.
From Mouth to Mouth, ed. By Forrest Gander.
from Folklore / by Elena Milan
Nevertheless, we go dancing through the streets
to the rhythm of rattles and clarinets with a thousand reeds
PIA: from August 28, 2014. A belated yesterday.
For Oz, from Fairy Tale Review, The Emerald Issue. More here:
http://fairytalereview.com/tag/the-emerald-issue/
from No Place Like / by Katie Manning
A few months after
the storm, Dorothy asked
to paint the farmhouse
emerald green.
PIA: from June 16, 2016. Happy Sunday.
For summer travels, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Summer / by Ronald Johnson
As the morning advanced the sun became bright and warm, cloudless, calm, serene.
PIA: from a May 13th.
For the most beautiful weather, from Selected Poems.
from Storm, Instantaneous Forever / by Boris Pasternak, translated by Jon Stallworthy and Peter France
The lilac darkened. And the storm
Came bounding in from the meadows
With a sheaf of lightning flashes
For icicles and ferns, from 3 Books.
from The Poem / by Galway Kinnell
Where are the small poems Li Po folded into boats and pushed out on the river?
PIA: from June 29, 2016.
For gratitude for spectacles, from Tsim, Tsum.
from The 10 Stages of Beatrice / by Sabrina Orah Mark
The possibility that she is not alive, in this stage, never enters her mind. This stage is only possible if the spectacle comes to town.
For the Russian River out the window, from The Pisan Cantos.
from Canto LXXIV / by Ezra Pound
flowing toward the Villa Catullo
where with sound ever moving
in diminutive poluphloisboios
PIA: from July 7, 2014.
For statues. This one’s from Greek Women Poets, ed. by Eleni Fourtouni (1978).
from Mark of Recognition / by Kiki Dimoula, b. 1931
You can’t even
weigh a few raindrops in your hands,
or pick a daisy.
PIA: from July 25, 2014.
For the crows. This one’s from Contemporary American Poetry, ed. by Donald Hall (1962). A bio here:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/robert-bly
from Where We Must Look for Help / by Robert Bly b. 1926
On the third day the crow shall fly;
The crow, the crow, the spider-coloured crow
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