Summer Poetry

Looking for Gold by William Stafford

A flavor like wild honey begins

when you cross the river. On a sandbar

sunlight stretches out its limbs, or is it

a sycamore, so brazen, so clean and bold?

You forget about gold. You stare and a flavor

is rising all the time from the trees.

Back from the river, over by a thick

forest, you feel the tide of wild honey

flooding your plans, flooding the hours

til they waver forward looking back.

They can't return: that river divides more than

two sides of your life. the only way

is farther, breathing that country, becoming

wise in it's flavor, a native of the sun.


Your golden face tracks 
with devotion 
the suns daily rotations. 

East to west,
your towering stalks
the size of my wrist.

Awash with Wonder 
I watch.
Your only work
to grow,
to tower above us,
to bring your light
to children and weary adults.

It is in faith like yours
that we find our paths. 

Easy to west.
Dawn to twilight. 
Despair to Wonder.

August Modrning by Albert Garcia

It's ripe, the melon

by our sink. Yellow,

bee-bitten, soft, it perfumes

the house too sweetly.

At five I wake, the air

mournful in its quiet.

My wife’s eyes swim calmly

under their lids, her mouth and jaw

relaxed, different.

What is happening in the silence

of this house? Curtains

hang heavily from their rods.

Ficus leaves tremble

at my footsteps. Yet

the colors outside are perfect–

orange geranium, blue lobelia.

I wander from room to room

like a man in a museum:

wife, children, books, flowers,

melon. Such still air. Soon

the mid-morning breeze will float in

like tepid water, then hot.

How do I start this day,

I who am unsure

of how my life has happened

or how to proceed

amid this warm and steady sweetness?

What did you notice?

The dew-snail; the low-flying sparrow;
the bat, on the wind, in the dark;
big-chested geese, in the V of sleekest performance;
the soft toad, patient in the hot sand;
the sweet-hungry ants;
the uproar of mice in the empty house;
the tin music of the cricket’s body;
the blouse of the goldenrod. (more)

Stay Inside the Rapture

Don’t rush; be a beginner; weave pearls in your hair; grow potatoes; light the candles; keep the fire; dare to love someone; tell yourself the truth; stay inside the rapture…

Marlene DeBlasi

"Run my dear from anything that does not strengthen your beautiful budding wings." Hafiz