Did you too see it, drifting, all
Did you see it in the morning, ris
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and li
into the bondage of its wings; a s

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

There is, all around us,
this country
of original fire.
You know what I mean.
The sky, after all, stops at nothi

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

On a summer morning
I sat down
on a hillside
to think about God –
a worthy pastime.

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

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
we’re not looking. Surely you can

I thought the earth remembered me,
she took me back so tenderly,
arranging her dark skirts, her poc
full of lichens and seeds.
I slept as never before, a stone o

Fat,
black, slick,
galloping in the pitch
of the waves, in the pearly
fields of the sea,

From a single grain they have mult
When you look in the eyes of one
you have seen them all.
At the edges of highways
they pick at limp things.