"I Looked Up" by Mary Oliver

"Frost" Shiro Kasamatsu

I looked up and there it was

among the green branches of the pitch pines—

thick bird,

a ruffle of fire trailing over the shoulders and down the back—

color of copper, iron, bronze—

lighting up the dark branches of the pine.

What misery to be afraid of death.

What wretchedness, to believe only in what can be proven.

When I made a little sound

it looked at me, then it looked past me.

Then it rose, the wings enormous and opulent,

and, as I said, wreathed in fire.

"I Looked Up" by Mary Oliver, from Owls and Other Fantasies. © Beacon Press, 2003. 

"Summer Evening" by John Clare

Shiro Kasamatsu -- Night in Summer, 1957

The frog half fearful jumps across the path,

And little mouse that leaves its hole at eve

Nimbles with timid dread beneath the swath;

My rustling steps awhile their joys deceive,

Till past,--and then the cricket sings more strong,

And grasshoppers in merry moods still wear

The short night weary with their fretting song.

Up from behind the molehill jumps the hare,

Cheat of his chosen bed, and from the bank

The yellowhammer flutters in short fears

From off its nest hid in the grasses rank,

And drops again when no more noise it hears.

Thus nature's human link and endless thrall,

Proud man, still seems the enemy of all.

"Summer Evening" by John Clare, from Poems.

© Ulan Press, 2012.