Tag Archives: "Spring"

A Time To Gather Spiritual Honey

Mary Oliver love flowers because of their origins in dark places and for their ability to make luminous our own dark places.

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When the World Is Mud-Luscious

e. e. cummings ushers in spring with a joyous celebration.

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From the Dark, Cold Grime a Flower Comes

Mary Ann Bernard shows spring coming only with difficulty–but being all the more meaningful because of that.

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Spring’s Triumph over War

In Henry Reed’s “Naming of Parts,” sexual spring wins out over a bureaucratic drill sergeant.

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When the World Is Puddle Wonderful

It was raining yesterday in Pittsburgh on the first day of spring, bringing to mind one of the great poems about the season.

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A Light Exists in Spring

Emily Dickinson captures magical light of spring–and its transience.

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The Erotic Call of the Pear Tree

Zora Neale Hurston has one of the most erotic descriptions of a blossoming tree that you will find anywhere.

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It’s Spring and the Balloon Man Whistles

Here’s a delightful e.e. cummings poem to celebrate the first day of spring.

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Such Singing in the Wild Branches

On a beautiful spring morning when she is startled by birdsong, Mary Oliver describes a merging with nature where she “began to understand what the bird was saying.”

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Rough Winds Do Shake the Buds of March

Crazy weather swings have been messing with our spring flowers, bringing to mind Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18.

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Each Enclosed Spirit Is a Singing Bird

I awoke this beautiful spring morning to hear the birds at full throttle, giving me an excuse to post a wonderful bird poem by Henry Vaughan, the 17th century metaphysical poet.

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The Witch that Walks in the Fields of Spring

Here’s a poetic warning that my wife directs to those who close their eyes to the miracle of May that is exploding all around us.  Maybe we miss out on spring because we are plugged into our iPods or talking on our cell phones or texting.  Or for that matter, blogging. Ignoring spring requires a […]

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Pretty Is Not What Blazes the Trail

As the ice (or “iron rind”) starts dissolving from the ponds, we may dream of “ferns and flowers and new leaves unfolding.” But the transition from winter to spring is a much grittier affair, characterized less by sweetness and more by lurid smells emerging from chilling mud. The real harbinger of spring may not be the bluebird but the skunk cabbage, celebrated by Mary Oliver in a powerful poem.

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Ah, the Stench of Spring

The news has been so grim recently that I offer up a bit of comic verse at midweek to give you a breather. Think of it as a celebration of the stench of spring—which is to say, of the fertilizer that the farmers are spreading on their fields as the season of growth begins. The […]

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Moving beyond August Madness

Alexander Pope, taking his cue from the Roman poet Juvenal, knew what a crazy month August could be. In The Dunciad the end of civilization occurs in August, coinciding with the rise of the “dog star” Sirius: Now flam’d the Dog Star’s unpropitious ray, Smote ev’ry brain, and wither’d every bay [poet]; Sick was the […]

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