Understand, I am always trying to… what the soul is, and where hidden, and what shape and so, last week,

“For example, what the trees do not only in lightning storms or the watery dark of a summer’s n… or under the white nets of winter but now, and now, and now—whenever

Hello, sun in my face. Hello, you who make the morning and spread it over the fields and into the faces of the tulips and the nodding morning glories,

Scatterghost, it can’t float away. And the rain, everybody’s brother, won’t help. And the wind all these… flying like ten crazy sisters ever…

Meditation is old and honorable, s… not sit, every morning of my life,… looking into the shining world? Be… attended to, delight, as well as h… Can one be passionate about the ju…

There is, all around us, this country of original fire. You know what I mean. The sky, after all, stops at nothi…

The river Of my childhood, That tumbled Down a passage of rocks And cut-work ferns,

Is the soul solid, like iron? Or is it tender and breakable, lik… the wings of a moth in the beak of… Who has it, and who doesn’t? I keep looking around me.

Look, the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars of light,

At Blackwater Pond the tossed wat… after a night of rain. I dip my cupped hands. I drink a long time. It tastes like stone, leaves, fire. It falls…

Have you ever seen anything in your life more wonderful than the way the sun,

In the early curtains of the dusk it flew, a slow galloping this way and that way

One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice—

My work is loving the world. Here the sunflowers, there the hum… equal seekers of sweetness. Here the quickening yeast; there t… Here the clam deep in the speckled…

Don’t call this world adorable, or… It’s frisky, and a theater for mor… The eyelash of lightning is neithe… The struck tree burns like a pilla… But the blue rain sinks, straight…