This spring has been perfect. It finally felt like a "real" spring to me. Not that I've adapted to the traditionally late Minnesota spring, but that spring came early this year. By March, it was warming up and the snow disappeared. Though there were no flowers yet, Easter weekend was a balmy 65. And most importantly, for my peace of mind, there were no spring fake-outs: one week 65 and the next a blizzard or sub-zero temperatures. Now, the lilacs are in glorious bloom, and everywhere I look, there is a wall of green.
I love the feeling of spring: the miracle of a world changed, the constant change in scenery out my back door. The renewal and the thrumming of life.
I need a good poem about spring to capture what I can't express. Anyone have suggestions?
3 comments:
"in just" by e.e. cummings
Michelle,
I'm at Thomas' with a new granddaughter--thus the other "handle"--still Madhadder P.S. I heard a Hannah Smith story from one of the Time Out for Women speakers in Spokane.
Madhadder--congrats on the new grandbaby!
"the world is puddle wonderful"--what a great line. Thanks!
And what's the story of Hannah? You have piqued my curiosity.
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