Poetry

This was a day when nothing happened, the children went off to school without a…

You darken as my knife slices blushing at what you become. I save your thick…

One river gives Its journey to the next.   We give because someone gave to…

I got out of bed on two strong legs. It might have been otherwise. I…

May you learn to dwell Below the surface of the days At home with the…

Mrs. Nelson explained how to stand still and listen to the wind, how to find…

The only way down is down, leaving the light for the dark, allowing the surface…

Like King David, they have drunk the wine of astonishment. Mouths open wide, they lean…

Starting here, what do you want to remember? How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?…

Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt—marvelous error!— that a spring was breaking out…

Autumn. What is that silent “n” all about anyway? It should be dropped quietly, like…

Two expressions of the mystery: one of sudden joy and arriving, one of profound grief…

When I am asked how I began writing poems, I talk about the indifference of…

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you Are not lost. Wherever you are…

If you don’t know the kind of person I am and I don’t know the…

The wind, one brilliant day, called to my soul with an odor of jasmine. “In…

It may be that when we no longer know what to do we have come…

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among things that change. But it doesn’t change….

When I think how far the onion has traveled just to enter my stew today,…

The world exists just fine without our appreciation. It is not for us that the…