I want to be poetic about spring, but she is so fickle.  Nonetheless, a little Monday morning e.e.cummings ~

“sweet spring is your

time is my time is our

time for springtime is lovetime

and viva sweet love

I glanced out my office window mid-morning to see tiny, beautiful buds on the burning bush.  To make sure I wasn’t just seeing things, I moved closer and darn if I didn’t also see the tiniest snowflakes lightly swirling about the buds.  Good grief, already.

(all the merry little birds are

flying in the floating in the

very spirits singing in

are winging in the blossoming)

It’s so true – the early morning was filled with bird song and singing.  Now-snow? Snow!?

lovers go and lovers come

awandering awondering

but any two are perfectly

alone there’s nobody else alive

(such a sky and such a sun

i never knew and neither did you

and everybody never breathed

quite so many kinds of yes)

“quite so many kinds of yes”  How cute is that?

not a tree can count his leaves

each herself by opening

but shining who by thousands mean

only one amazing thing

Ah, but wait…no more snow.  The sun bursts from behind the clouds.

(secretly adoring shyly

tiny winging darting floating

merry in the blossoming

always joyful selves are singing)

Mostly blue skies with a few clouds and the birds have resumed their chorus.  Must be March on the Front Range.

sweet spring is your

time is my time is our

time for springtime is lovetime

and viva sweet love”

e.e.cummings

Viva sweet love, indeed!

Stormie – don’t kill me.  I like this.  ;)  From 2012, spring, of course.