June 18, 2021

My first roses brought me to my senses. All my furies, I launched them like paper boats in the algaed pond behind my house.

—Ira Sadoff


June 11, 2021

Peacefully The quiet stars came out, one after one; The holy twilight fell upon the sea, The summer day was done.

—Celia Thaxter


June 4, 2021

Though I lack the art To decipher it, No doubt the next chapter In my book of transformations Is already written. I am not done with my changes.

—Stanley Kunitz


May 28, 2021

When skies are deepest blue above, And flow’rs aflush, — then most I love To start, while early dews are damp, And wend my way in woodland tramp.

—Paul Laurence Dunbar


May 21, 2021

The Ocean has its silent caves, Deep, quiet, and alone; Though there be fury on the waves, Beneath them there is none.

—Nathaniel Hawthorne


May 14, 2021

So white, so green, so blue, so golden . . . so neat, so clean, frilled with the hues of fall flowers and growing grass . . .

—Elizabeth Bowie Hough


May 7, 2021

Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading I denied, That leaves only me to blame, 'cause Mama tried.

—Merle Haggard


April 23, 2021

Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the origin of this universe. Remember you are all people and all people are you.

—Joy Harjo


April 16, 2021

The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day. When the sun is out and the wind is still, You’re one month on in the middle of May.

—Robert Frost


April 9, 2021

Hark, I hear a robin calling! List, the wind is from the south! And the orchard-bloom is falling Sweet as kisses on the mouth.

—Lucy Maud Montgomery


April 2, 2021

O let me rise As larks, harmoniously, And sing this day thy victories: Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

—George Herbert


March 26, 2021

Where am I going? I don’t quite know. Down to the stream where the king-cups grow Up on the hill where the pine-trees blow Anywhere, anywhere. I don’t know.

—A.A. Milne


March 19, 2021

Music, sweet music, Cheers meadow and lea; In the song of the blackbird, The hum of the bee; The loud happy laughter Of children at play Proclaim how they worship Spring’s beautiful day.

—Eliza Cook


March 12, 2021

The rackety, icy, offshore wind Numbed our faces on one side; Disrupted the formation Of a lone flight of Canada geese; And blew back the low, inaudible rollers In upright, steely mist.

—Elizabeth Bishop


March 5, 2021

And each succeeding day now longer grows. The birds a gladder music have begun, The squirrel, full of mischief and of fun, From maples’ topmost branch the brown twig throws.

—Claude McKay


February 26, 2021

The world is a beautiful place To be born into If you don’t mind happiness Not always being So very much fun.

—Lawrence Ferlinghetti


February 19, 2021

In winter All the singing is in The tops of the trees Where the wind-bird With its white eyes Shoves and pushes Among the branches. Like any of us.

—Mary Oliver


February 12, 2021

The flakes descend, Softly, without a sound that I can tell — When out of the further white a gull appears, Crosses the hollow place, and goes again…

—Mark Van Doren


February 5, 2021

The dry, black branches of winter seen in flight Run singing. Come here to drink Translucent drops on fresh leaves. Come over here, and try to light that wick.

—Silvia Guerra


January 29, 2021

I joy to see him come marching forth Begirt with the icicle gems of the north; But I like him best when he comes bedight In his velvet robes of stainless white.

—Eliza Cook


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