They talk all day
and when it starts to get dark
they lower their voices
to converse with their own shadows
and with the silence.
They are like everybody
all day chatter,
and at night bad dreams.
With their gold rings
on their clever faces,
and the heart restless
They are like everybody,
the ones that talk best
have separate cages.
From Dawn of the Senses: Selected Poems of Alberto Blanco. Copyright © 1995 by Alberto Blanco. Reprinted by permission of City Lights Books.
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
This poem is in the public domain.
Many laughing ladies, leisurely and wise,
Low rich voice, delicate gay cries,
Tea in fragile china cups, ices, macaroons,
Sheraton and Heppelwhite and old thin spoons,
Rather dim paintings on very high walls,
Windows showing lawns whereon the sunlight falls,
Pink and silver gardens and broad kind trees,
And fountains scattering rainbows at the whim of a breeze,
Fragrance, mirth and gentleness, a Summer day
In a world that has forgotten everything but play.
This poem is in the Public Domain.