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

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

Meditation is old and honorable, s… not sit, every morning of my life,… looking into the shining world? Be… attended to, delight, as well as h… Can one be passionate about the ju…

The first fish I ever caught would not lie down quiet in the pail but flailed and sucked

The feet of the heron, under those bamboo stems, hold the blue body, the great beak above the shallows

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…

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

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

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

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.

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

When the blackberries hang swollen in the woods, in the bramb… nobody owns, I spend all day among the high branches, reaching

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…

Every morning the world is created. Under the orange sticks of the sun

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,