The Sun in Poetry
Evening The light passes from ridge to ridge, from flower to flower— the hepaticas, wide-spread under the light grow faint— the petals reach inward, the blue tips bend toward the […]
Poetry
Another Parkinson’s Sonnet
You lived a rich life; couldn’t ask for more – Then whoa! The fickle Fates cry out, “Hey, you! Just wait until ya see what we’ve in store – A
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The Sun in Poetry
The little river twittering in the twilight, The wan, wondering look of the pale sky, This is almost bliss. And everything shut up and gone to sleep, All the troubles
The Sun in Poetry
The Desolate Field Vast and gray, the sky is a simulacrum to all but him whose days are vast and gray, and— In the tall, dried grasses a goat stirs
The Sun in Poetry
August No wind, no bird. The river flames like brass. On either side, smitten as with a spell Of silence, brood the fields. In the deep grass, Edging the dusty
The Moon in Poetry
I remember The crackle of the palm trees Over the mooned white roofs of the town… The shining town… And the tender fumbling of the surf On the sulphur-yellow beaches
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The Sun in Poetry
The Dark Hills Dark hills at evening in the west, Where sunset hovers like a sound Of golden horns that sang to rest Old bones of warriors under ground, Far
The Sun in Poetry
When I Rise Up When I rise up above the earth, And look down on the things that fetter me, I beat my wings upon the air, Or tranquil lie,
The Sun in Poetry
The Wine Drinkers The wine-drinkers sit on the porte cochère in the sun. Their lack of success in love has made them torpid. They move their fans with a motion
The Sun in Poetry
You, Andrew Marvell And here face down beneath the sun And here upon earth’s noonward height To feel the always coming on The always rising of the night: To feel