“The Bell and the Blackbird” by David Whyte
The Bell and the Blackbird The sound of a bellStill reverberating,or a blackbird callingfrom a corner of the field,asking you to wakeinto this life,or inviting you deeperinto the one that waits. Either waytakes courage,either way… Continue Reading
“Smelling the Wind” by Audre Lorde
Smelling the Wind Rushing headlonginto new silenceyour facedips on my horizonThe nameof a cherished dreamriding my anchorone sweet seasonto cast offon another voyage No reckoning allowedsave the marvelous arithmeticsof distance . Audre Lorde, 1934–1992 ©… Continue Reading
“Borges and I” by Jorge Luis Borges
Borges and I The other one, Borges, is the one to whom things happen. I wander through Buenos Aires, and pause, perhaps mechanically nowadays, to gaze at an entrance archway and its metal gate; I… Continue Reading
“For a Daughter Who Leaves” by Janice Mirikitani
For a Daughter Who Leaves “More than gems in my comb box shaped by theGod of the Sea, I prize you, my daughter. . .” … Continue Reading
“The Sea” by David Whyte
The Sea The pull is so strong we will not believethe drawing tide is meant for us,I mean the gift, the sea,the place where all the rivers meet. Easy to forget,how the great receiving depthuntamed… Continue Reading
“An ancient pond!” by Matsuo Basho
An ancient pond! An ancient pond!With a sound from the waterOf the frog as it plunges in. . Matsuo Basho, 1643-1694 This poem is in the public domain. Photo by Martino Pietropoli on Unsplash Continue Reading
“Summer Stars” by Carl Sandburg
Summer Stars Bend low again, night of summer stars.So near you are, sky of summer stars, So near, a long-arm man can pick off stars, Pick off what he wants in the sky bowl, So… Continue Reading
“He Mele Aloha no ka Niu” by Brandy Nālani McDougall
He Mele Aloha no ka Niu I’m so tired of pretendingeach gesture is meaningless, that the clattering of niu leavesand the guttural call of birds overhead say nothing.There are reasons why the lichen and moss… Continue Reading
“Summer” by Robin Coste Lewis
Summer Last summer, two discrete young snakes left their skin on my small porch, two mornings in a row. Being post-modern now, I pretended as if I did not see them, nor understand what I… Continue Reading
“Ode to the Tomato” by Pablo Neruda
Ode to the Tomato The roadway is full of tomatoes, midday, summer, the light splits itself in two halves of tomato, runs down the roads as juice. In December it goes wild the tomato, invades… Continue Reading