In winter all the singing is in the tops of the trees where the wind-bird with its white eyes

My work is loving the world. Here the sunflowers, there the hum… equal seekers of sweetness. Here the quickening yeast; there t… Here the clam deep in the speckled…

The spirit likes to dress up like this: ten fingers, ten toes, shoulders, and all the rest

When death comes like the hungry bear in autumn; when death comes and takes all the… to buy me, and snaps the purse shu… when death comes

“For example, what the trees do not only in lightning storms or the watery dark of a summer’s n… or under the white nets of winter but now, and now, and now—whenever

Is the soul solid, like iron? Or is it tender and breakable, lik… the wings of a moth in the beak of… Who has it, and who doesn’t? I keep looking around me.

In the early curtains of the dusk it flew, a slow galloping this way and that way

Not quite four a.m., when the rapt… strikes me from sleep, and I rise from the comfortable bed and go to another room, where my books ar… in their neat and colorful rows. H…

Come with me into the field of sunflowers. Their faces are burnished disks, their dry spines creak like ship masts,

Hello, sun in my face. Hello, you who make the morning and spread it over the fields and into the faces of the tulips and the nodding morning glories,

Scatterghost, it can’t float away. And the rain, everybody’s brother, won’t help. And the wind all these… flying like ten crazy sisters ever…

Look, the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars of light,

The river Of my childhood, That tumbled Down a passage of rocks And cut-work ferns,

I know someone who kisses the way a flower opens, but more rapidly. Flowers are sweet. They have short, beatific lives. They offer much pleasure. There is