Classic poem of the day
Its valleys know not either day or night;
Like mountain shadows darkening the plain
They slumber on, unconscious of the light
That falls on earth, like sun-thoughts on the brain.
And yet we feel her presence, as the main
Thrills to the diapason of the storm;
When the waves spring to their feet and join the strain,
These mighty wrestlers a strong chorus form,
And sing her praise, in tones deep, passionate and warm.
Member poem of the day
Vigil
The woman climbs into bed with her sleeping husband,
as she’s done thousands of times, though never in a bed
seven stories above streets dusted with ice crystals and cinders.
Sounds of the unit at night: beeps, the rustle of sheets,
a fan dispersing heat evenly in the room.
We can’t know what dreams infuse the woman’s sleep.
When dawn comes, she may give no thought to the empty house,
miles from here, where they raise...
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