Ted Kooser: Dawn
All the trees’ shoulders are bowed
to the weight of big trash bags
of shadow as they drag them behind
to the edge of the light.
Kari Gunter-Seymour: Last Night the Chime Of Tree Frogs
Granny Woman dances
under breeze-shivering branches,
her skirts a waltz of wings,
mouth full of stories.
She has emptied her house of men.
Paul Laurence Dunbar: In Summer Time
‘Tis wealth enough of joy for me
In summer time to simply be.
Matt Hohner: Hearkening
Something in the calcium and cartilage
of her two dozen years began to ache and fray as she hurled
herself, meteoric, upside-down above earth, her celestial body
tumbling out of a history of performance and measurement,
Bhikshuni Chitta: On the Wind
At the top of the mountain, I spread my outer robe on a rock to dry, set down my staff and bowl, took a deep breath, and looked around.
Majid Naficy: A Little Girl’s Rebellion
At seven o’clock in the morning
As I pass by a green house
An automatic sprinkler
Suddenly goes off
And wets me head to toe.
Marco North: Of Fountains and Wells
water holds spirits…water can be holy, and sacred.
Dawn Potter: Mother to Son
Always with the video games when you’re sad,
as if the gunshots are manna, or music,
which isn’t to say I think you’re planning
to shoot up a grocery store—no, no
Elizabeth Romero: Strawberry Moon
The moon in her lopsided veil
like a hillbilly bride
her face round and pale pink
against the darkening blue.
Michael Gregory: This is your mind as green slime mold
mingling molecules and attitudes
sinews and desires platitudes and functions
nervous circuits and circadian rhythms pure crap
and masterful conceptions
Audio: Gil Scott-Heron | Pieces of a Man
I saw my daddy greet the mailman
And I heard the mailman say
“now don’t you take this letter to heart now Jimmy
Cause they’ve laid off nine others today”
Emily Dickinson: Cocoon above! Cocoon below!
A moment to interrogate,
Then wiser than a “Surrogate,”
The Universe to know!
Edna St. Vincent Millay: She had forgotten how the August Night
She had forgotten how the August night
Was level as a lake beneath the moon,
In which she swam a little, losing sight
Of shore
