Judith A. Brice: Notes On A Postcard
The picture would portray a few
flowering apple trees profuse in bloom
their parchment petals set
to sail with the wind, take off
Samuel Taylor Coleridge: Frost at Midnight
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch…
Doug Anderson: South of Laramie
And that is the way with love.
Speak only when you cannot help it.
However strange and vibrant the sound.
Edward Thomas: Rain
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Sandra Lubarsky: Speak the Name of Beauty
So beneficial is exposure to the natural world that a new global movement has arisen to declare access to nature a human right.
Naomi Shihab Nye: Trees Gossip with the Birds
When the orange sun sinks over the AZIZI sign I feel
the darkening world soaking up all the extra noise
John Clare: Summer
I’ll lean upon her breast and I’ll whisper in her ear
That I cannot get a wink o’sleep for thinking of my dear;
I hunger at my meat and I daily fade away
Like the hedge rose that is broken in the heat of the day.
John Clare: The Badger
The badger grunting on his woodland track
With shaggy hide and sharp nose scrowed with black
Roots in the bushes and the woods, and makes
A great high burrow in the ferns and brakes.
Josephine Dickinson: Seven Dimple Cushions
Andrew tells us . there will be . all the usual . English songbirds . bluetits . robins . blackbirds . and the rest . but also . a backdrop . of seabirds . which is unique . and there will be . a sense of space
Molly Fisk: Peace
One of those days when the grain of a wooden table
seems more certain, as if ordained, when gravity feels
like praise
James Wright: To a Blossoming Pear Tree
Beautiful natural blossoms,
Pure delicate body,
You stand without trembling.
Little mist of fallen starlight,
Perfect, beyond my reach
Charlotte Turner Smith: On Being Cautioned Against Walking on an Headland Overlooking the Sea, Because It Was Frequented by a Lunatic
In moody sadness, on the giddy brink,
I see him more with envy than fear
Josephine Dickinson: 6018
At Hartford Connecticut a man steps out on the tarmac, one foot in front of the other, as the plane begins to move. Above Hartford a wooded hilly landscape, a … Continue reading
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Ode to the Schorren
& their skin-thin silt the Scheldt ground down from rocks, slopes & swamps — a rainy-day-gray mud, that satin muck that slips through fingers & escapes toward the insatiable North … Continue reading
