Not Slowly wrought, not treasured for their form In heaven, but by the blind self of the storm Spun off, each driven individual Perfected in the moment of its fall. -Howard Nemerov, "Snowflakes"
Long before morning glories perched upon opening day. I left yesterday under a worn goose mattress The cotton tapestry still had creases from my nocturnal lullabies of dreams long past. -Salih Michael Fisher, "Hometown"
Through shapes more sinuous than a sculptor's thought. Tell of dull matters splendidly distraught, Whisper of mutinies divinely quelled- Weak indolence of flesh, that long rebelled, The spirit's domination bravely taught. -Edward Cracroft Lefroy, "A Palaestral Study"
Are you still loving? I never knew you were living. Where did they run?