Robert Cording: New Morning
Always that moment
when I wake up
in the dark
before dawn
and the first birds
Amy Lowell: Lilacs
The bright eyes of song sparrows sitting on spotted eggs
Peer restlessly through the light and shadow
Of all Springs.
Shaheen Dil: From Letters to my Younger Self
Today my three-card spread says there’s a Twinkie in my future again
Lola Haskins: Field Notes
You were born breathing water.
Grown, you push your prey from the air
into the basket of your legs
o angel bright as grass
hovering above the red flowers.
Rachel Hadas: Pastorals
Its title is Red Comet, but the book itself is more like a long freight train, a slow train, a train crammed with information, a train that stops at every station, not to let anyone out but to take more in.
Sharon F. McDermott: How to Love a Transcendentalist
Walking across the quad, on my way to my first class, my senses swooned at the sight and scent of blossoms capping the apple trees with billowing clouds. Pink and white petals perfumed the air and spiraled down on breezy days. Bees hummed in the canopies; birds nested there.
Sean Sexton: Not
Not the listless woods these days,
their ongoing summer song
same as the year-round sound in my head.
Alice Friman: The Nick Poems
Do you know what you’re doing?
and she said yes
though deep in her virginity
she knew nothing
but what she wanted