Sabbaths 2005 XIII (Monday Poem)

 by Wendell Berry

Eternity is not infinity.

It is not a long time.

It does not begin at the end of time.

It does not run parallel to time.

In its entirety it always was.

In its entirety it will always be.

It is entirely present always

from This Day: Collected & New Sabbath Poems by Wendell Berry

Counterpoint, 2013

Sabbaths 1996 VI (Monday Poem)

 by Wendell Berry

A bird the size

of a leaf fills

the whole lucid

evening with

his note, and flies.

 

 

from This Day: Collected & New Sabbath Poems by Wendell Berry

Counterpoint, 2013 

Sabbaths 2005 XI (Monday Poem)

by Wendell Berry

My young grandson rides with me

as I mow the day's first swath

in the hillside pasture,

and then he rambles the woods beyond

the field's edge, emerging

from the trees to wave, and I wave back,

remembering that I too once

played at the field's edge and waved

to an old workman who went mowing by,

waving back to me as he passed.

from This Day: Collected & New Sabbath Poems by Wendell Berry

Counterpoint, 2013

Sabbaths 1999 VII (Monday Poem)

 by Wendell Berry

We travelers, walking to the sun, can't see

Ahead, but looking back the very light

That blinded us shows us the way we came,

Along which blessings now appear, risen

As if from sightlessness to sight, and we,

By blessing brightly lit, keep going toward

The blessed light that yet to us is dark.

 

 

from This Day: Collected & New Sabbath Poems by Wendell Berry

Counterpoint, 2013 

Future Memories (Monday Poem)

 

By Mario Meléndez

Translated from the Spanish by Eloisa Amezcua

My sister woke me very early
that morning and told me
“Get up, you have to come see this
the ocean’s filled with stars”
Delighted by the revelation
I dressed quickly and thought
If the ocean’s filled with stars
I must take the first flight
and collect all of the fish from the sky  

 

from Poetry (September 2017)

Mockingbirds (Monday Poem)

 by Mary Oliver

This morning                                                 and blessed them.       

two mockingbirds                                         When the gods rose                                  

in the green fields                                       out of their mortal bodies,

were spinning and tossing                            like a million particles of water

the white ribbons                                        from a fountain,

of their songs                                             the light

into the air.                                                swept into all the corners

I had nothing                                              of the cottage,

 

better to do                                               and the old couple,

than listen.                                                shaken with understanding,

I mean this                                                bowed down ---

seriously.                                                   but still they asked for nothing

 

In Greece,                                                beyond the difficult life

a long time ago,                                        which they had already.

an old couple                                            And the gods smiled as they vanished,

opened their door                                    clapping their great wings.

 

to two strangers                                      Wherever it was

who were,                                                I was supposed to be

it soon appeared,                                    this morning ---

not men at all,                                         whatever it was I said

 

but gods,                                                I would be doing---

It is my favorite story---                       I was standing

how the old couple                                  at the edge of the field---

had almost nothing to give                      I was hurrying

 

but their willingness                                through my own soul,

to be attentive---                                    opening its dark doors---

and for this alone                                    I was leaning out;

the gods loved them                                I was listening.

 

 

from Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver

Penguin, 2017          

From Blossoms (Monday Poem)

By Li-Young Lee

 

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward   
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into   
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

from Rose, by Li-Young Lee

BOA Editions Ltd., 1986  www.boaeditions.org.