By Kevin Young
Once, in winter, I was blessed
by lightning, the plane
sudden struck—the boom
of it, the cabin lit …
by lightning, the plane
sudden struck—the boom
of it, the cabin lit …
Explore Poems: Weather
Showing 1-20 of 425 poems
- By Doug Gonzalezonly I stood in the rain with wet skin. I could taste the dew though it had not yet found my lips. …
- By Ide Amari Thompsonso beautiful, it hurt
to listen when your rain
what fall, drop, fresh-
water. drawn as the day come
… - By Lis SanchezBefore there were cavalry horses sheening the street
with golden turds, there were strains of a treble… - By Andrew FrisardiThe city lies back in its winding-sheet
While little digits drum a steady beat
On roofs and terraces, … - By Russell AtkinsOh didn’t it """ """ """
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""" """ n’t… - By Mary B. MooreThe window clouds do roof-tiles
and ripples before they drown in sun,
become haze, innuendo,
but of… - By Mary B. MooreCloud slurry: the “It,” that rains
and sets off the big burns out West
has iced the last snow, and … - By Arvind Krishna MehrotraSet with raindrops, displayed
between the king’s mantle and the litchi tree,
was the cobweb I almost walked… - By Julia FiedorczukFrom within my bodily singularity
I play at sending out gentle sunbeams.
I don't believe in myself, but… - By Stephen Ratcliffelight coming into fog against invisible
top of ridge, blue jay on redwood fence
in foreground, sound… - By Jan Wagnererscheint als handkuß, als sanfter stubser,
erinnerungsgischt: denke daran,
wo du herkommst, lurch.
… - By Jan Wagnerit appears as a hand-kiss, gentle nudge,
spray of memory: remember
where you came from, frog.
or galloping… - By Stephen Ratcliffegrey whiteness of fog against invisible
ridge, bird slanting toward pine branch
in foreground, sound… - By Emily BrontëO transient voyager of heaven!
O silent sign of winter skies!
What adverse wind thy sail has driven… - By Jane HirshfieldOn the fifth day
the scientists who studied the rivers
were forbidden to speak
or to study the rivers… - By David TaitA week of autumn snow, and today the sun,
the buildings fizzy with melting, the beggar
draping his sheets… - By Rachel Tzvia BackIn the south we are busy now
slaughtering each other, there's no time
for flowers—
Slowly summer will
scalding…