Friday, January 5, 2018

Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves, 
only the things I didn’t do 
crackle after the blazing dies.

—Naomi Shihab Nye


  1. To the New Year
    By W. S. Merwin
    With what stillness at last
    you appear in the valley
    your first sunlight reaching down
    to touch the tips of a few
    high leaves that do not stir
    as though they had not noticed
    and did not know you at all
    then the voice of a dove calls
    from far away in itself
    to the hush of the morning

    so this is the sound of you
    here and now whether or not
    anyone hears it this is
    where we have come with our age
    our knowledge such as it is
    and our hopes such as they are
    invisible before us
    untouched and still possible

  2. Oops~forgot that I had tucked this snippet of poetry away!