Some warm poetry, for cold evenings:
Molly Fisk, “Winter Sun” (We can make do with so little / just the hint of warmth, the slanted light.)
Pat Schneider, “The Patience of Ordinary Things” (It is a kind of love, is it not? / how the cup holds the tea.)
Barbara Ras, “Bite Every Sorrow” (You can speak a foreign language, sometimes / and it can mean something.)
Jack Gilbert, “Failing and Flying” (Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.)
Lisel Mueller, “Things” (Even what was beyond us / was recast in our image; / we gave the country a heart, / the storm an eye)
Rabindranath Tagore, “On the Seashore” (The sea plays with children, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach / On the seashore of endless worlds children meet)
John O’Donohue, “Matins” (May I live this day / Compassionate of heart / Gentle in word / Courageous in thought)
Wallace Stevens, “The House Was Quiet and The World Was Calm” (The summer night is like a perfection of thought. / The house was quiet because it had to be)
Brian Patten, “Inessential Things” (Cats remember what is essential of days)
Emily Dickinson, “Simplicity” (How happy is the little stone / that rambles in the road, alone)
Yi Lu, “Valley’s Green” (flowers like tiny saucers — little bowls — little cups / filled to the brim with their own colors)
Jacques Prévert, “How to Paint a Bird’s Portrait” (When the bird comes / if it comes / observe the most profound silence)
Archibald MacLeish, “Eleven” (Happy as though he had no name, as though / He had been no one: like a leaf, a stem, / Like a root growing…)
Denise Levertov, “A Woman Alone” (Then / self-pity dries up, a joy / untainted by guilt lifts her. / She has fears, but not about loneliness)
Richard Brautigan, “Your Catfish Friend” (I’d love you and be your catfish / friend and drive such lonely / thoughts from your mind)
Linda Gregg, “The Letter” (I’m not feeling strong yet, but I am taking / good care of myself)
Andrew Lang, “Ballade of True Wisdom” (And I’d leave all the hurry, the noise, and the fray, / For a house full of books, and a garden of flowers)
Ada Limón, “The Raincoat” (my whole life I’ve been under her / raincoat thinking it was somehow a marvel / that I never got wet.)
Jorge Luis Borges, “The Just” (These people, unaware, are saving the world)
Wendell Berry, “The Peace of Wild Things” (I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.)
