All the thirsty world imploring

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Photo by Richard Fogg

Come and marvel at the sunset!
Lo—a storm is brooding near,—
All the thirsty world imploring,
In a mood akin to fear…

See the weirdly golden essence
Lurk along, the shades between,
‘Till it drowns and rolls above them
In triumphant glare of sheen.
~ Ruby Archer

The Forges of the Sunset

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Photo by Richard Fogg

My eyes dim for the skyline
Where purple peaks aspire,
And the forges of the sunset
Flare up in golden fire…

I cry for night-blue shadows
On plain and hill and dome—
The spell of old enchantments,
The sorcery of home.
~ Bliss Carman

Did you make a wish?

Look, a butterfly. Did you make a wish?
You don’t wish on butterflies.
You do so. Did you make one?
Yes.
~ Louise Gluck

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Photo by Richard Fogg

 

Fragile petals

Love may be wind-tossed as a blue flax flower,
Or hold its fragile petals but an hour,
Vanish with frost; still, roots that drink the rain,
Eternal as ours, will live…and bloom again.
~ Mary L. Kienholz.

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Photo by Richard Fogg

The Robin is the One

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Photo by Richard Fogg

The robin is the one
That interrupts the morn
With hurried, few, express reports
When March is scarcely on.

The robin is the one
That overflows the noon
With her cherubic quantity,
An April but begun.

The robin is the one
That speechless from her nest
Submits that home and certainty
And sanctity are best.

~ Emily Dickinson

little birds

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Photo by Richard Fogg

 

may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old
~ E. E. Cummings.

 

If you listen closely

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Photo by Richard Fogg

Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
‘Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

~ Maya Angelou

With scented dew still wet

A single flow’r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet—
One perfect rose.
~ Dorothy Parker

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Photo by Richard Fogg