Meditation A wise man, Watching the stars pass across the sky,  Remarked: In the upper air the fireflies move more  slowly.  Amy Lowell   (USA, 1874-1925)      First Bluejay  Rain beading on buds of dogwood,  glistening, too, on first thrust of daffodils and crocus like the shine of light on bayonets; and here he comes now, the early courtier of light and air, big boy strutting his colors of blue and white, daring the sky to cast off its gray cloak,  betting the trees will raise their hands again in green and bright surrender.   George Garrett  (USA, 1929-2008)  First published in Days of Our Lives Lie in Fragments,  LSU Press. Reprinted with permission from his son,  George Gorham Garrett.       from Tankas to Float Down the River  If we were granted  some magic or enough grace   to bid the clouds, speak,  they’d whisper: loam and soil, rock   and the sway of earth, not sky.  Melanie Moro-Huber  (USA, b. 1971)  First published in Axe in Hand, NYQ Books.  Reprinted with permission.    The Waiting Girl You best believe I am fit as a dandelion,  facing the day  in a crown of gold,   my roots rough-hewn,  knurled as a hand saw.  And yet I wait,  thrusting the frost,   suckling the minutes  until you see me.  You placed your faith   in a cloud of seedlings,  not expecting this –  this erect scattering  like a thorned prayer,  feckless, yours.  Poems IN THE WAITING ROOM  Erin Ganaway  (USA, b. 1976)   First published in The Waiting Girl,     Texas Review Press. Reprinted with permission.  Poems in the Waiting Room (PitWR) is sponsored by Blue Ridge Cancer Care and dedicated to the memory of oncologist Gerald L. Schertz, M.D. Dr. Schertz lived and practiced medicine in the Roanoke Valley for over 35 years, touching the lives of countless patients with his caring demeanor. PitWR is an initiative of the Dr. Robert L.A. Keeley Healing Arts Program at Carilion Clinic. Poem Gerald L. Schertz, M.D. selections in this issue were made with the   assistance of the Jackson Center for Creative 1945 – 2013 Writing at Hollins University, Roanoke, Virginia. To learn more about the Healing Arts Program and how to make  a gift in memory of Dr. Schertz, contact the Carilion Clinic Foundation at  540-224-5398 or [email protected].       Copyright title PitWR  Copyright of recent poems retained by authors © 04/14 Carilion Clinic SD J2163 KL/FL  Yours to Keep Volume 1, Issue 2    Stars around the full moon lose their bright beauty when she, almost full, floods the whole earth with clear light. Sappho (Greece, 7th / 6th century B.C.E.) After a translation by Edwin Marion Cox. from The Phoenix Here’s what I’ve heard: how off in the east, at world’s fringe lies a far, lovely land… There, trees’ thick branches bend, heavy with fresh color, fadeless forever, a place unfailing as heaven. No dark red unfurls earthward, leafmeal onto that forest’s floor. What a wonder: those limbs always laden with fruit, adorned by the Maker, make their green mark, bringing more brightness to the grassbright plain. Anonymous (Anglo-Saxon England, 9th century) Translation by Jeanne Larsen. Printed with permission. I cannot say which is which: the glowing plum blossom is the spring night’s moon. Izumi Shikibu (Japan, 974-1034) Translation by Jane Hirshfield . First published in The Ink Dark Moon, Scribner. Reprinted with permission. To the Tune: Sands of the Washing Stream A Noiseless Patient Spider Recovering from sickness with tangled hair, I lie and watch through the window screen a slim moon rising. I simmer pods of cardamon in place of tea. A noiseless patient spider, I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated, Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding, It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself, Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them. Reclining on my pillow, reading ancient poetry restores me. Outside healing rain arrives; elegant cassia flowers bow towards me. Li Qingzhao (China, 1084-c. 1150) Translation (c) 2013 by Michael Farman, from Jade Mirror: Women Poets of China. Reprinted with the permission of White Pine Press. from On Imagination And you O my soul where you stand, Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space, Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them, Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold, Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul. Walt Whitman (USA, 1819-1892) Thy various works, imperial queen, we see, How bright their forms! how deck’d with pomp by thee! Thy wond’rous acts in beauteous order stand, And all attest how potent is thine hand… Imagination! who can sing thy force? Or who describe the swiftness of thy course. from Close By Phillis Wheatley (USA, born in Senegal, 1753-1784) So near at hand (our eyes o’erlooked its nearness In search of distant things) A dear dream lay – perchance to grow in dearness Had we but felt its wings Astir. The air our very breathing fanned It was so near at hand. E. Pauline Johnson, a.k.a. Tekahionwake (Canada, 1861-1913)