The Edge of the Hurricane by Amy Clampitt Wheeling, the careening winds arrive with lariats and tambourines of rain. Torn-to-pieces, mud-dark flounces of Caribbean cumulus keep passing, keep passing.
The Humming-birds by Amy Lowell Up–up–water shooting, Jet of water, white and silver, Tinkling with the morning sun-bells. Red as sun-blood, whizz of fire, Shock of fire-spray and water. it
This fragment from the Amy Clampitt poem On the Disadvantages of Central Heating keeps going through my head this spring over and over and over again like a scratched record:
Grasses by Amy Clampitt Undulant across the slopes a gloss of purple day by day arrives to dim the green, as grasses I never learned the names of– numberless,
Some weeks ago my sweet friend Molly told me about a circle of women bloggers who post a poem every Wednesday. She encouraged me to join in, thinking that I