For Ohio, on a good night for Cleveland and the state, and for fathers on earth and beyond it, from poetryfoundation.org.

from Youth / by James Wright

I know his ghost will drift home 
To the Ohio River, and sit down, alone, 
Whittling a root. 
He will say nothing. 
The waters flow past, older, younger   
Than he is, or I am.

For wishes, from poetryfoundation.org.

from The Minister of Culture Gets His Wish / by Mark Strand

The Minister of Culture goes home after a grueling day at the office. He lies on his bed and tries to think of nothing, but nothing hap-pens or, more precisely, does not happen.

For seashells and waves, from Heavenly Questions.

from Fusiturricula Lullaby / by Gjertrud Schnackenberg

A visit to the shores of lullabies,
So far from here, so very far away,
A floor of sand, it doesn’t matter where, And overhead a water-ceilings sways

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.

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.

For Day 24 of National Poetry Month and for trout and still waters and writers of fiction who also believe in poetry, from today’s Knopf Poem A Day.

from Poem for Hemingway & W. C. Williams / by Raymond Carver

the other,
          medical man,
he knows the chances
          of that.
he thinks it fine
          that they should
simply hang there
          always
in the clear water.

A spring flower for Day 11, from Ariel.

from Tulips / by Sylvia Plath

And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.