For a little bit of needed magic, from Poetryfoundation.org.
from Nights on Planet Earth / by Campbell McGrath
For the littlest ones and chaplains, from American Poets, Spring-Summer 2014.
from ICU / by Spencer Reece
In the neonatal ICU, newborns breathed,
blue, spider-delicate in nests of tubes.
A Sunday of themselves, their tissue purpled,
their eyelids the film on old water in a well
For Novembers past, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The Flash Reverses Time / by A. Van Jordan, b. 1965
and the people look, look in that bewildered way,
in my direction, I imagine
walking slowly into my past
Among so many unforgettable images and moments, let this one be for the rain. From Citizen, by Claudia Rankine.
from I / by Claudia Rankine
The rain this morning pours from the gutters and everywhere else it is lost in the trees.
For clocks whose hands move backwards, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Grand Central, Track 23 / by Elizabeth Skurnick
The laureled, relentless clocks. The sceptered row
Of columns dreams one o’clock, immense,
Inviolate. What time is it? I don’t know.
For the new month and the hopeful-small showers it brought already, from poetryfoundation.org.
from October / by Bill Berkson, b. 1939
The October wind . . . nests
For trees, from Poetry 180, edited by Billy Collins.
from Blue Willow / by Jody Gladding
swallows met over us later I dreamed
of flying with them we had all the time
in the world we had the world
how could those trees be weeping?
For birthdays, from Poetry 180, edited by Billy Collins.
from 49th Birthday Trip (What Are You On?) / by Samuel Menashe
If I arrive at six-fifteen
Will I be seen?
For rain, which we really, really need here, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Rain / by Kazim Ali, b. 1971
The pages of my notebook soak, then curl. I’ve written:
“Yogis opened their mouths for hours to drink the rain.”
For deer, from poetryfoundation.org.
from My Autumn Leaves / by Bruce Weigl, b. 1949
They know the boy
who lives inside me still won’t go away.
The deer are ghosts who slip between the light
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