Friday, February 28, 2020

March 2020

The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la...
Bring promise of merry sunshine!

My balcony Buddha sits
In brief sunny aftermath of blustery
End-of-Feb snow whiteout...
While Spring’s promise
Explodes on my side of window...
And brings sweet memory.
Lubbock, Texas, spring of 1954.
First poem I ever learned...
By heart:

She wore her yellow sun-bonnet
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbour:
"Winter is dead."

~Daffodowndilly, by A.A. Milne
The Grade 3 version of me
Knew naught of Spring
Nor of her promises.
I guess it got cold in the winter
But I don't recall any snow.
Craig Cooley and Eileen Lamplighter
And I still rode our bicycles
Around the neighbourhood
Dodging ubiquitous tumbleweeds.
I had no awareness of daffodils, either,
But our teacher showed us pictures
And had us make daffodil pinwheels
From yellow craft paper.
Craig and Eileen and I had great fun
Running home holding ours on high
As they whizzed and spun.
But, it was this poem
That captured my soul.
No, I didn't remember all of it.
I had to look it up.

But, see?
Sixty-six springs later
I know snow
And I yearn for spring
I am still captivated.

Many thank yous to Roy for the daffs!

If this isn't nice, what is?

              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course