For griffins and centaurs, from Modern Life.
from You Know This Too / by Matthea Harvey
The bird on the gate and the goat nosing the grass below make a funny little fraction, thinks the centaur. He wonders if this thought is more human than horse, more poetry than prose.
For one of May’s most welcome weathers, from Crown of Weeds.
from Introducing: The Clouds / by Amy Gerstler
Introducing: the clouds.
Billowing, tufted,
or ragged. Flying
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 editing, travels and side trips, from Day by Day. Yesterday, corrected.
from Ulysses and Circe / by Robert Lowell
What is more uxorious than waking at five
with the sun and three hours free?
For impressionism, from Black Aperture.
from Monet as a Verb / by Matt Rasmussen
The raindrop
that splatters
on a blade
of grass is
no more
worshipped
than the one
For travels and side trips, from Day by Day.
from Ulysses and Circe / by Robert Lowell
What is more uxorious than waking at five
with the sun and three hours free?
For Emily Brontë and things we see through, from Glass, Irony and God.
from The Glass Essay / by Anne Carson
But it has no name.
It is transparent.
Sometimes she calls it Thou.
For the passing moment, from Bells in Winter.
from Encounter / by Czeslaw Milosz, translated by the author and Lillian Vallee
That was long ago. Today, neither of them is alive,
Not the hare, nor the man who made the gesture.
O my love, where are they, where are they going
The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles.
For mothers and anyone who’s mothered a child or grandparent or friend or beloved, from poetryfoundation.org.
from A Mother to Her Waking Infant / by Joanna Baillie
Thy smooth round cheek so soft and warm;
Thy pinky hand and dimpled arm;
Thy silken locks that scantly peep,
With gold tipped ends, where circle deep,
Around thy neck in harmless grace,
So soft and sleekly hold their place
…Perhaps when time shall add a few
Short years to thee, thou’lt love me too;
And after that, through life’s long way,
Become my sure and cheering stay
For mothers and anyone who’s ever loved a child, from poetryfoundation.org.
from On Mother’s Day / by Grace Paley
Look! more trees on the block
forget-me-nots all around them
ivy lantana shining
and geraniums in the window
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