Poems by Barbara Daniels

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The Gold Tongue

by Barbara Daniels

From Canary Spring 2014

Barbara Daniels lives in the Big Timber Creek watershed, which drains into the Delaware River.

She wants to let the world
be the world, patient accumulation

of leaves, beautiful wheel of the sky,
slabs of rock an open book of mercy.

What she desires-gold tongue
of a purple iris, sweet light in trees.

A hawk turns, lifts its ragged wings.
She is her body, these lips, this hand.

Pink shrubs border the river.
Blossoms fill branches. Leaves

and grasses do not lack tenderness.
She sees that they never stop rippling.

Trees Full of Light

by Barbara Daniels

From Canary April/May 2009

At the lip of woods,
trees express delight,
every word a long
vowel. A tree’s
desires are met in air:

sunshine and sameness,
the great continuities. 
Untroubled trees
turn their leaves
in the light, each

to the sun, each
with easy work to do. 
They approve
my affection,
my long meanders

and frivolous hat. 
Why not be sisters
while day remains? 
When wind dips
branches and gently

lifts them, trees
let slip what they
don’t need, sift
needles and seed pods

into the shade.

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