Messenger (poem by Mary Oliver)

  Messenger by Mary Oliver   My work is loving the world. Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird equal seekers of sweetness. Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums. Here the clam deep in the speckled sand. Are my boots old? Is my coat torn? Am I...

The Last Days of August

      … and so the day slips   the long mournings of trees last traces of gold     © prasanta  –  August 2018     “August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.” ― Sylvia...

Moonrise (poem)

Moonrise Will you glimmer on the sea? Will you fling your spear-head On the shore? What note shall we pitch? We have a song, On the bank we share our arrows— The loosed string tells our note: O flight, Bring her swiftly to our song. She is great, We measure her by the...