For reindeer, from The Half-Finished Heaven.
from From March ’79 / by Tomas Tranströmer, translated by Robert Bly
I made my way to the snow-covered island.
The wild does not have words.
DPF / Tate
For nature, from Worshipful Company of Fletchers.
from Back to Nature / by James Tate
When you roll over never let your body touch the ground.
DPF / Chen
For whatever the weather we’ll weather it whether it’s stormy or sun, from The Best American Poetry 2015, edited by Sherman Alexis, series editor David Lehman.
from for i will do/undo what was done/undone to me / by Chen Chen
i pledge allegiance to the weather
report that promises more snow, plus freezing rain.
though i would minus the plural & plus the multitude
of messages pressed muddy into the perfectly
mutable snow
DPF / Cole
For May’s ocean, from Middle Earth.
from Icarus Breathing / by Henri Cole
rain starring the sea, tearing all over me;
our little boat, as in a Hokusai print, nudging closer
to Icarus
DPF / Forche
For young poets, from Gathering the Tribes.
from Early Night / by Carolyn Forche
This snow is the snow of Urals
swarming upward, ashes, birds
frozen solid into stars.
DPF / Steele
For May Day, from Sapphics Against Anger and Other Poems.
from Waiting for the Storm / by Dr. Timothy Steele
And, moment by moment, felt
The sand at my feet grow colder,
The damp air chill and spread.
Then the first raindrops sounded
On the hull above my head.
DPF / Brooks Barbour
For Day 30, the the last day of National Poetry Month, 2016, from a dear, ether friend, from her lovely book, Beautifully Whole.
from Red Scales / by Julie Brooks Barbour
Finally she threw him into the pond
behind her house where he sank to the bottom
and waited for her to call.
DPF / Tufariello
For Day 30, the the last day of National Poetry Month, 2016, from a sweet friend and her book, Keeping My Name.
from Chemist’s Daughter / by Catherine Tufariello
a Milky Way
was whirling on the tip of my fingernail,
ten thousand planets dancing on its pale
half moon
DPF / Gluck
For Day 29, from The Wild Iris.
from End of Winter / by Louise Gluck
Over the still world, a bird calls
walking solitary among black boughs.
DPF / Akhmatova
For Day 28, my birthday day ten months away, from The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova.
from At the Edge of the Sea / by Anna Akhmatova (1889–1966)
Bays cut into the low-lying shore,
all the sails were fleeing out to sea,
And I was drying my salty braid
On a flat rock a mile from land.
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 