Knuckles of the rain
on the roof,
chuckles into the drain-
pipe, spatters on
the leaves that litter
From the bridge, see far into
the woods, now that limbs are bare,
ground thick-littered. See,
along the scarcely gliding stream,
the blanched, diminished, ragged
swamp and woods the sun still
spills into. Stand still, stare
hard into bramble and tangle,
past leaning broken trunks,
sprawled roots exposed.
October/ May Swenson
I’m sorry for the rabbits.
And I’m sorry for us
To know this.
Rabbits and Fire/ Alberto Ríos
The first sky
is inside you, open
at either end of day.
One Heart/ yi-young lee
To weep unbidden, to wake
at night in order to weep, to wait
for the whisker on the face of the clock
to twitch again, moving
the dumb day forward—
Some believe in heaven,
some in rest. We’ll float,
you said. Afterward
we’ll float between two worlds—
Practice/ Ellen Bryant Voigt
I’m not asking for much. A more tender world
with less hatred strutting the streets.
My Invisible Horse and the Speed of Human Decency/ Matthew Olzmann
Lord, let my ears go secret agent, each
a microphone so hot it picks up things
silent, reverbing even the hum of stone
close to its eager, silver grill
Prayer to be Still and Know/ Nickole Btown
The apples are thumping, winter is coming.
The lips of the pumpkin soon will be humming.
By the caw of the crow on the first of the year,
Something will die, something appear.
A rhyme for Halloween/ Maurice Kilwein Guevara
Someone standing at the mouth had
the idea to enter. To go further
than light or language could
go. As they followed
the idea, light and language followed
like two wolves—panting, hearing themselves
Someone continued. They followed the idea so far inside that
outside was another idea.
The Cave/ Paul Tran
Fall, falling, fallen. That’s the way the season
Changes its tense in the long-haired maples
Changes and moves in the split second between summer’s
Sprawling past and winter’s hard revision, one moment
Pulling out of the station according to schedule,
Another moment arriving on the next platform.
Suddenly feel something invisible and weightless
Touching our shoulders, sweeping down from the air:
It is the autumn wind pressing against our bodies;
It is the changing light of fall falling on us.
Fall/ Edward Hirsch