Welcome to “Poetry for the Summer.” Today’s blog is from my book “a slow and sudden God: 40 years of wonder.”

i’m thankful today for poetry.

the imagery. the rhythm.

the sounds. the lines.

reading it, today.

hearing it, now.

daring my damaged brain

to envision, to visualize, to notice,

and then to craft words.

luring my loving heart

toward care again.

today. this morning. now.

words open readers’ minds to

think and feel and wonder.

windows open.

doors open.

moods change,

suddenly or slowly.

bright lights begin to dim.

they quickly shine again,

then fade.

walking into rooms then out.

running into fields then through.

investigating with and without.

noticing the old and the new.

words which have aged

gracefully, peacefully, appealingly. words which are waking to life for the first time,

for this time,

for now.

this now.

today’s morning.

an only time

as a reality of itself

but also

as a pleasure for repetition.

more moments.

more nows.

more todays.

more mornings of poetic motion,

of pieces and portions,

imagery and rhythm.

curving lines through hills and streams.

hearing feet tapping as precision

with resolve, with tenacity.

hearing water flowing as a lover racing home.

words. fit. together.

words. fall. apart.

not controlled. not controlling.

it’s about noticing.

noticing now, the same.

noticing again, differently.

and again, and differently again.

space covered with these friends of mine.

near me, they stay.

then they hide.

i find them, maybe.

but the process of sliding downhill

on a windy day like today is fitting.

words are the wind.

words are the weather.

words are the ground.

words are the rain.

words are the heat.

words are the cold.

let us not miss them.

let us not ignore them.

they rhyme at their own times.

they reveal their rhythm in their own ways.

they capture us,

as pace and flow and image

dare again our damaged brains

and broken hearts

to notice.