Thursday’s early morning storm provides the inspiration for this week’s edition of Poetry Friday.

Spring Snow  

A spring snow coincides with plum blossoms.
In a month, you will forget, then remember
when nine ravens perched in the elm sway in wind.

I will remember when I brake to a stop,
and a hubcap rolls through the intersection.
An angry man grinds pepper onto his salad;

it is how you nail a tin amulet ear
into the lintel. If, in deep emotion, we are
possessed by the idea of possession,

we can never lose to recover what is ours.
Sounds of an abacus are amplified and condensed
to resemble sounds of hail on a tin roof,

but mind opens to the smell of lightning.
Bodies were vaporized to shadows by intense heat;
in memory people outline bodies on walls.

  — Arthur Sze (b. 1950)

From The Redshifting Web: Poems 1970-1998, published by Copper Canyon Press, 1998. Copyright © 1998.

FOR NOTHING

Earth a flower
A phlox on the steep
slopes of light
hanging over the vast
solid spaces
small rotten crystals;
salts.

Earth a flower
by a gulf where a raven
flaps by once
a glimmer, a color
forgotten as all
falls away.

A flower
for nothing;
an offer;
no taker;

Snow-trickle, feldspar, dirt.

  — Gary Snyder (b. 1930), American poet, originally and often associated with the Beat Generation, essayist, lecturer, and environmental activist. Winner of a Pulitzer Prize for Poetry.

Girl Lithe and Tawny

Girl lithe and tawny, the sun that forms
the fruits, that plums the grains, that curls seaweeds
filled your body with joy, and your luminous eyes
and your mouth that has the smile of the water.

My sombre heart searches for you, nevertheless,
and I love your joyful body, your slender and flowing
    voice.
Dark daisy, sweet and definitive
like the wheat-field and the sun, the poppy and the water.

  — Pablo Neruda (1904 - 1973), Chilean writer and Communist politician.
     Translation by W.S. Merwin