Reaching Out (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
A birch, fallen, extending reaching out, over the still-running water the bank starting to freeze, the water moving down below ...
Poems about birch (28 Poems)
Pine Needle Floorboards (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Silence steps, into the chapel the open-air sanctuary walking in silence a mere rubbing underfoot less than a crunch pine ...
In the chapel (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
sitting alone, in the back of the sanctuary pines the rafters, blue sky the ceiling more beautiful than the Sistine ...
Listening in the Silence (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
I sat apart, in the back of the sanctuary no roof our walls were around me nature all around Listening ...
Red over White (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
A hillside, white birch, maples, poplar red patina, wash overlaid over the white, the gray buds erupting, a hillside ablaze ...
New Leaves (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
New sunlight first rays in the morning cutting over the tree line down through the woods into the yard Catching ...
A Whitening World (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Snow continues to fall young faces pressed against the windows climb the back of the couch dream of snowmen, castles, ...
Raining Leaves (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Wet dull brown oak leaves red maple, yellow birch, fell in showers, amidst the big secondary rain drops under the ...
Dew in the Morning – first try (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
It is 7 am And the world awakes. There's dew in the morning. Every tip of the serrated Wild strawberry ...
Dew in the Morning – (Resurrection) (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Dew in the morning Burst my slumber, stupor, coma Caught me from numbness, Unseeing eyes Dulled senses Forced sight, perception ...
Looking Closer (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
As I reached down To unlock my canoe From the tree, I held onto a Black birch sapling's branch. There, ...
Out in the woods (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
A space in the dark untrammeled woods Off the path Under the watch of maples and birch A bed of ...
Free Time (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Campsite set Late afternoon Late June Grab a friend Get the canoe Head up the brook The tributary Portage through ...
Falls (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Back out into the wet woods Walking and hiking But always looking, watching, Searching for that one moment when the ...
Nature Walk (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Out back, behind the yard in the brush and scrub at the edge a world unfolds for those willing to ...
Pea Brush (Robert Frost Poem)
I WALKED down alone Sunday after church To the place where John has been cutting trees To see for myself ...
The Onset (Robert Frost Poem)
Always the same, when on a fated night At last the gathered snow lets down as white As may be ...
Wild Grapes (Robert Frost Poem)
What tree may not the fig be gathered from? The grape may not be gathered from the birch? It's all ...
Home Burial (Robert Frost Poem)
He saw her from the bottom of the stairs Before she saw him. She was starting down, Looking back over ...
Birches (Robert Frost Poem)
When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think ...
The Ancestral Dwelling (Henry Van Dyke Poem)
Dear to my heart are the ancestral dwellings of America, Dearer than if they were haunted by ghosts of royal ...
Low Tide on Grand Pré (Bliss Carman Poem)
The sun goes down, and over all These barren reaches by the tide Such unelusive glories fall, I almost dream ...
The Knight’s Tomb (Samuel Coleridge Poems)
Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn? Where may the grave of that good man be?-- By the side ...
YARNER (Graham Burchell Poem)
A place of dryad and hamadryad, there are eyes here by the million. Many divert to watch me. Threatened, they ...
Poetics (A. R. Ammons Poem)
I look for the way things will turn out spiralling from a center, the shape things will take to come ...
March Elegy (Anna Akhmatova Poem)
I have enough treasures from the past to last me longer than I need, or want. You know as well ...
294. Song-To Mary in Heaven (Robert Burns Poems)
THOU ling'ring star, with lessening ray, That lov'st to greet the early morn, Again thou usher'st in the day My ...
The Little Vagabond (William Blake Poems)
Dear Mother, dear Mother, the Church is cold, But the Ale-house is healthy & pleasant & warm: Besides I can ...