The Sunflowers Come with me into the field of sunflowers. Their faces are burnished disks, their dry spines creak like ship masts, their green leaves, so heavy and many, fill all day with the sticky sugars of the sun. Come...

Thank you Wendell Berry for your beautiful life, poetry, works, compassion, integrity, and love. The Sunday Morning Silence Comes at Last (Sabbaths 2007 XI) The sounds of engines leave the air. The Sunday morning silence comes at last.  At last...

Mesa Verde The earth is salmon-colored here, cracked into plates like the shell of a giant turtle It is a place I've seen in a dream. Our faces tingle with the heat of sun, the fiery way we look at...

Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches Have you ever tried to enter the long black branches of other lives — tried to imagine what the crisp fringes, full of honey, hanging from the branches of the...

RECOVERY It was as if the rain could feel itself falling through the air today, as if the air could actually feel its own dampness, the breeze could hear a familiar voice explaining the emptiness to the dark elms that...

The Heart of Herakles Lying under the stars, In the summer night, Late, while the autumn Constellations climb the sky, As the Cluster of Hercules Falls down the west I put the telescope by and watch Deneb Move towards the...