Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Faces called flowers

This morning I took a poetry break, which is something I think I need to do every morning.  My a.m. routine is one full of bustle.  After taking care of my sons' needs I am already a little ragged by 9:30.  Both of them are morning kids, and want to play and talk from the moment they wake up at 7:00.  This morning, as I drank my coffee, I read a selection of e.e. cummings' poems on Spring.  I was immediately calmer, and have been coming back to them in the hours since, trying to center myself.

This poem below especially grabbed me.  I have read it many times before and loved it for his voice and his imagery.  I have been thinking a lot about how to live a simpler life, more full of meaning for me and my family, and right now, this poems seems to sum it up.

by e.e. cummings

when faces called flowers float out of the ground
and breathing is wishing and wishing is having-
but keeping is downward and doubting and never
-it's april(yes,april;my darling)it's spring!
yes the pretty birds frolic as spry as can fly
yes the little fish gambol as glad as can be
(yes the mountains are dancing together)

when every leaf opens without any sound
and wishing is having and having is giving-
but keeping is doting and nothing and nonsense
-alive;we're alive,dear:it's(kiss me now)spring!
now the pretty birds hover so she and so he
now the little fish quiver so you and so i
(now the mountains are dancing, the mountains)

when more than was lost has been found has been found
and having is giving and giving is living-
but keeping is darkness and winter and cringing
-it's spring(all our night becomes day)o,it's spring!
all the pretty birds dive to the heart of the sky
all the little fish climb through the mind of the sea
(all the mountains are dancing;are dancing)

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