By Tom Montag
All things glow as with inner light. One who pays attention and who speaks clearly of what he sees, that luminosity, might often sound as if he is praying. These are psalms then.
Don’t Say Tree
Don’t say tree —
say maple
red-breasted
grosbeak and
indigo
bunting. Say
cumulus
and horsetail.
The river
has a name.
Say it. Each
green thing does.
Don’t say weed
or flower —
say creeping
charlie. Say
peony.
Say maple
again, oak,
locust, elm,
and jackpine.
Say beauty
by its name.
Every Spring
Every spring
is proof again
we are all
going to die.
Smell the earth.
Just smell it!
Not So Much the Night
Not so much the night
and not full daylight.
Dawn, the changing edge,
the moment, the ledge
from which all things leap.
Wind is brushing sleep
from my eyes. The trees
are rustling their leaves.
This, the moment when
holy things have been
lifted up. What stays?
All these brimming days,
each so beautiful,
so luscious and full.
Tom Montag is most recently the author of In This Place: Selected Poems 1982-2013. He is a contributing editor at Verse-Virtual. In 2015, he was the featured poet at Atticus Review (April) and Contemporary American Voices (August) and at year’s end received Pushcart Prize nominations from Provo Canyon Review and Blue Heron Review. Other poems will be found at Hamilton Stone Review, The Homestead Review, Little Patuxent Review, Mud Season Review, Poetry Quarterly, Third Wednesday, and elsewhere.