Spring, Lovely..

The Wind Sings Welcome in Early Spring by Carl Sandburg
(For Paula)THE GRIP of the ice is gone now.
The silvers chase purple.
The purples tag silver.
They let out their runners
Here where summer says to the lilies:
“Wish and be wistful,
Circle this wind-hunted, wind-sung water.”

Come along always, come along now.
You for me, kiss me, pull me by the ear.
Push me along with the wind push.
Sing like the whinnying wind.
Sing like the hustling obstreperous wind.

Have you ever seen deeper purple …
this in my wild wind fingers?
Could you have more fun with a pony or a goat?
Have you seen such flicking heels before,
Silver jig heels on the purple sky rim?
Come along always, come along now.

I've been reading the lovely book The Anti-Romantic Child by Priscilla Gilman to review, and her love for poetry is rubbing off. Okay, I've actually posted poetry here several times, but there's no doubt her book is acting as impetus to today's offering. 
Let me just say that at times the books I read in tandem often provide a surreal feeling; to move between Gilman's memoir in which Wordsworth is the bedrock for all that flows forth and Simon Baron-Cohen's book on empathy and evil makes for odd dreams, to say the least. 

A table for the flowers to dine...

New flowers to add in to the existing glory that comes up each year by seed.

Made my bed with them, I did
What a glorious companion!
                   The Ad-Dressing Of Cats 
 by T. S. Eliot
You've read of several kinds of Cat,
And my opinion now is that
You should need no interpreter
To understand their character.
You now have learned enough to see
That Cats are much like you and me
And other people whom we find
Possessed of various types of mind.
For some are same and some are mad
And some are good and some are bad
And some are better, some are worse--
But all may be described in verse.
You've seen them both at work and games,
And learnt about their proper names,
Their habits and their habitat:
How would you ad-dress a Cat?
So first, your memory I'll jog,
And say: A CAT IS NOT A DOG.
And you might now and then supply
Some caviare, or Strassburg Pie,
Some potted grouse, or salmon paste--
He's sure to have his personal taste.
(I know a Cat, who makes a habit
Of eating nothing else but rabbit,
And when he's finished, licks his paws
So's not to waste the onion sauce.)
A Cat's entitled to expect
These evidences of respect.
And so in time you reach your aim,
And finally call him by his NAME.
So this is this, and that is that:
And there's how you AD-DRESS A CAT.

The Wii fit left him tuckered out.

How can you not be happy looking at these
(and thinking of all the seed they'll produce)!

I love beginnings...

 The Rose Family 
by Robert Frost
The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose.
But the theory now goes
That the apple's a rose,
And the pear is, and so's
The plum, I suppose.
The dear only know
What will next prove a rose.
You, of course, are a rose--
But were always a rose.

I'm not saying it.
But I bet you're thinking it.



r.b. said...

Oh, Lord, child, you are a mess. You and Georgia O'Keefe. Great company to be in, actually.

KWombles said...

:-) Hee, your comment has me giggling. See, you were thinking it, too!

kathleen said...

Oh yes! Hee Georgia O'keefe for sure...and pussy..uhhhh..cats. :)
Spring does that...