introducing Mr. Copper

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Lisa Olstein : "Dear One Absent This Long While"

It has been so wet stones glaze in moss;
everything blooms coldly.

I expect you. I thought one night it was you
at the base of the drive, you at the foot of the stairs,

you in a shiver of light, but each time
leaves in wind revealed themselves,

the retreating shadow of a fox, daybreak.
We expect you, cat and I, bluebirds and I, the stove.

In May we dreamed of wreaths burning on bonfires
over which young men and women leapt.

June efforts quietly.
I've planted vegetables along each garden wall

so even if spring continues to disappoint
we can say at least the lettuce loved the rain.

I have new gloves and a new hoe.
I practice eulogies. He was a hawk

with white feathered legs. She had the quiet ribs
of a salamander crossing the old pony post road.

Yours is the name the leaves chatter
at the edge of the unrabbited woods.



Poem of the Day, posted by The Poetry Foundation on April 20, 2018 

Kahlil Gibran (1883 - 1931) : "Between Night and Morn"

Be silent, my heart, for the space cannot
Hear you; be silent, for the ether is
Laden with cries and moans, and cannot
Carry your songs and hymns.

Be silent, for the phantoms of the night
Will not give heed to the whispering of
Your secrets; nor will the processions
Of darkness halt before your dreams.

. . .

William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616) : "Sonnet CIX"

For nothing this wide universe I call,

Save thou, my rose ; in it thou art my all.





Sonnets
Shakespeare's Sonnets

M 106

Hubble Top 100 Images  Image 27

Hubble Space Telescope, Robert Gendler, Jay GaBany

William Shakespeare (1564-1616) : "Sonnet CXIII"

Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind,

And that which governs me to go about

Doth part his function, and is partly blind,



Seems seeing, but effectually is out;

For it no form delivers to the heart

Of bird, of flower, or shape, which it doth latch:

Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,

Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch.



For if it see the rudest or gentlest sight,

The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature,

The mountain or the sea,

       the day or night,

The crow or dove,

       it shapes them to your feature:



Incapable of more, replete with you,

my most true mind thus maketh mine |eye| untrue.




Sonnets
Shakespeare's Sonnets

On my way