Evening Poetry

Evening Poetry, March 4

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Study the Stone
by Meister Eckhart

Be yourself. And if what this means
is unclear to you, look around at

the things of this earth. Study the stone
which always does what it was made

to do: it doesn't always fall in the
same way, sometimes resting in high

places and at other times finding its
rest where the earth allows it to lie,

but its purpose is to move downward,
and in this the stone loves God in the 

way it can, singing the new song
which God gives each creature and thing--

and also you who read this at times
wonder what to do and how to be.

You can find this poem in Meister Eckhart's Book of the Heart: Meditations for the Restless Soul.

Evening Poetry, March 3

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When We Look
by Annie Lighthart

When we look long at one another,
we soften, we relent, listen,

might forgive. We allow for silence
--and when we see each other,

are known, and in that moment
might change

though nothing has moved
or been spoken.

There are some who say
the walls cannot be broken,

but suddenly we are in a free place,
and the fields

that extend from its center
stretch for miles

as if out of the pupil and the iris
of that momentary kingdom.

You can find this poem in Pax.

Evening Poetry, March 2

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March
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Like some reformer, who with mien austere,
Neglected dress, and loud insistent tones,
More rasping than the wrongs which she bemoans,
Walks through the land and wearies all who hear,
While yet we know the need of such reform;
So comes unlovely March, with wind and storm,
To break the spell of winter, and set free
The poisoned brooks and crocus beds oppressed.
Severe of face, gaunt-armed, and wildly dressed,
She is not fair nor beautiful to see.
But merry April and sweet smiling May
Come not till March has first prepared the way.

You can find this poem in Poems of Sentiment.

Evening Poetry, March 1

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Dear March — Come in — (poem 1320) 
by Emily Dickinson

Dear March — Come in —
How glad I am —
I hoped for you before —

Put down your Hat —
You must have walked —
How out of Breath you are —
Dear March, Come right up the stairs with me —
I have so much to tell —

I got your Letter, and the Birds —
The Maples never knew that you were coming — till I called
I declare — how Red their Faces grew —
But March, forgive me — and
All those Hills you left for me to Hue —
There was no Purple suitable —
You took it all with you —

Who knocks? That April.
Lock the Door —
I will not be pursued —
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied —
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come

That Blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame —

You can find this poem in The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson.

Evening Poetry, February 28

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By William Morris

Late February days; and now, at last,
Might you have thought that
Winter's woe was past;
So fair the sky was and so soft the air.

Find this verse in The Poems of William Morris.

Evening Poetry, February 27

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A Winter Piece
William Cullen Bryant

Come when the rains
Have glazed the snow and clothed the trees with ice,
While the slant sun of February pours
Into the bowers a flood of light. Approach!
The incrusted surface shall upbear thy steps
And the broad arching portals of the grove
Welcome thy entering.

You can find this poem in William Cullen Bryant: Complete Poetical Works.

Evening Poetry, February 26

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Much Ado About Nothing
by William Shakespeare

Why, what's the matter,
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?

You can find this poem in Much Ado About Nothing.

Evening Poetry, February 25

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In Memory of a Happy Day in February
by Anne Brontë

Was it the smile of early spring
That made my bosom glow?
'Twas sweet, but neither sun nor wind
Could raise my spirit so.

Was it some feeling of delight,
All vague and undefined?
No, 'twas a rapture deep and strong,
Expanding in the mind!

You can find this poem in The Collected Poems of the Brontë Sisters.

Evening Poetry, August 7

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On Being Here

by Travis Mossotti

Let's move out to the twin rockers
on the porch. I'll give you the one
facing west, and we can watch together
the yellow lab as he trots down the street;
no longer rambunctiously lean, he wears
the solid form that old, well-fed dogs possess.

We are but minor rockings to him, somewhere
in the periphery, barely extant, like any
confident neighborhood stray he keeps
his nose up, his pace steady and fixed,
on his way, perhaps, to a memorable hydrant.
You and I know time is valuable, and a poem

can only give so much, but if you've got
a minute, wait here with me that much.
I promise you any moment now a breeze
will cross over the porch to steal a little 
of the stuff that makes us us, and in this way
we'll both be giving ourselves up to the wind.

You can find this poem in Healing the Divide: Poems of Kindness and Connection.


Evening Poetry, November 1

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Apple Song

by Robert Frost

The apples are seasoned

And ripe and sound.

Gently they fall

On the yellow ground.

The apples are stored

In the dusky bin

Where hardly a glimmer

Of light creeps in.

In the firelit, winter

Nights, they’ll be

The clear sweet taste

Of a summer tree!

You can find Favorite Poems Old and New.