You can live for years next door to a big pine tree, honored to have so venerable a neighbor, even when it sheds needles all over your flowers or wakes you, dropping big cones onto your deck at still of night.
Denise Levertov
Making it, making it, in their chosen field the roses fall victim to a weakness of the heart.
Denise Levertov
The wind, the birds, do not sound poorer but clearer, recalling our agony, and the way we danced.
Denise Levertov
The music reached us. Clumsily, stumbling over our own roots, rustling our leaves in answer, we moved, we followed.
Denise Levertov