Evening Poetry, April 8

From The Essential Rumi

by Rumi

Some nights stay up till dawn,

as the moon sometimes does for the sun.

Be a full bucket pulled up the dark way

of a well, then lifted out into light.

You can find this poem in The Essential Rumi.

Evening Poetry, April 7

Dancing in Mexico

by Mary Oliver

Not myself,

but Maria,

who, when her work is done,

tunes in the radio,

goes out into the garden,

picks up the front feet of the little dog Ricky,

and dances. She dances.

You can find this poem in Swan: Poems and Prose Poems.

Evening Poetry, April 6

Lines Written in Early Spring

By William Wordsworth

I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:—
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?

You can find this poem here.

Evening Poetry, April 5

There Will Come Soft Rains (War Time)

by Sara Teasdale

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,

And wild plum-trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one

Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

You can find this poem in The Four Seasons: Poems.

Evening Poetry, April 4

For Belonging

by John O’ Donohue

May you listen to your longing to be free.

May the frames of your belonging be generous

enough for your dreams.

May you arise each day with a voice of blessing

whispering in your heart.

May you find a harmony between your soul and

your life.

May the sanctuary of your soul never become


May you know the eternal longing that lives at the

heart of time.

May there be kindness in your gaze when you look


May you never place walls between the light and


May you allow the wild beauty of the invisible world

to gather you, mind you, and embrace you in


You can find this poem in To Bless the Space Between Us.

Evening Poetry, April 3

Spring Song II

by Jean Garrigue

And now my spring beauties,

Things of the earth,

Beetles, shards and wings of moth

And snail houses left

From last summer’s wreck,

Now spring smoke

Of the burned dead leaves

And veils of scent

Of some secret plant,

Come, my beauties, teach me,

Let me have your wild surprise,

Yes, and tell me on my knees

Of your new life.

You can find this poem in The Four Seasons: Poems.

Evening Poetry, April 2



by Emily Dickinson

An altered look about the hills;

A Tyrian light the village fills;

A wider sunrise in the dawn;

A deeper twilight on the lawn;

A print of a vermilion foot;

A purple finger on the slope;

A flippant fly upon the pane;

A spider at his trade again;

An added strut in chanticleer;

A flower expected everywhere;

An axe shrill singing in the woods;

Fern-odors on untravelled roads,–

All this, and more I cannot tell,

A furtive look you know as well,

And Nicodemus’ mystery

Receives its annual reply.

You can find this poem in Hope is the Thing With Feathers.

Evening Poetry, April 1

I Want to Write Something So Simply

by Mary Oliver

I want to write something

so simply

about love

or about pain

that even

as you are reading

you feel it

and as you read

you keep feeling it

and though it be my story

it will be common,

though it be singular

it will be known to you

so that by the end

you will think–

no, you will realize–

that it was all the while

yourself arranging the words,

that it was all the time

words that you yourself,

out of your own heart

had been saying.

You can find this poem in Evidence.

Evening Poetry, March 31


by Mary Oliver

There are moments that cry out to be fulfilled,

Like, telling someone you love them.

Or giving your money away, all of it.

Your heart is beating, isn’t it?

You’re not in chains, are you?

There is nothing more pathetic than caution

when headlong might save a life,

even, possibly, your own.

You can find this poem in Felicity.

Evening Poetry, March 30


by John O’Donohue

for J.

I awaken

To find your head

Loaded with sleep,

Branching my chest.

Feel the streams

Of your breathing

Dream through my heart.

From the new day,

Light glimpses

The nape of your neck.

Tender is the weight

Of your sleeping thought

And all the worlds

That will come back

When you raise your head

And look.

You can find this poem in Conamara Blues.