Father Tom, the priest at St. John Vianney.
Taciturn turtle, Spartan of simple space,
Of what do you think as you make slow pace
Across the humming highway’s span?
So small a life to immerse
In the ferment of the Universe!
Yet, someway, you ,too, are akin to man.
~from To aTurtle by Maxine McCray Miller
A Little Madness in the Spring
A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King,
But God be with the Clown —
Who ponders this tremendous scene —
This whole Experiment of Green —
As if it were his own!
~ Emily Dickinson
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls. — by Lord Alfred Tennyson
A small speckled visitor
wearing crimson cape,
brighter than a cherry,
smaller than a grape.
A polka-dotted someone
walking on my wall,
a black-hooded lady
in a scarlet shawl. — by Joan Walsh Anglund
O Skunk! O King of Stinkards!
Only the Moon knows
You are her prettiest, ugliest flower,
Her blackest, whitest rose!
— from Skunk by Ted Hughes
In a watery mirror
the rugged raccoon
admires his face
by the light of the moon:
the mysterious mask,
the whiskers beneath,
the sliver of cricket
still stuck in his teeth.
— by Deborah Ruddell
Next came the peacock, splendidly arrayed
In many-coloured pomp; this he displayed
As if he were some proud, self-conscious bride
Turning with haughty looks from side to side.
— from: The Peacock’s Excuse by Farid ud-Din Attar
When the winds of March are wakening
The crocuses and crickets,
Did you ever find a fairy near
Some budding little thickets…?
— By Marjorie Barrows