Friday, February 21, 2014


Soaking up the sun

Today is a complete contrast to my last post. The sun is out and it is warm. Not hot, not warm as in "it has been so cold that anything above freezing counts as warm," but genuinely springtime warm. Malcolm and I went to the park this morning to watch geese and play on the playground; this week I've been trimming the crepe myrtles, and the first seeds of the vegetable garden have been planted.

Last night before bed I was reading Aimless Love, the new collection of poetry by Billy Collins (one of my absolute favorite poets) when I rediscovered this poem, which completely captures my feelings about our spring weather:


If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze

that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house

and unlatch the door to the canary's cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,

a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden sprouting tulips

seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking

a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,

releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage

so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting

into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.

(Also available online from Poetry Magazine)

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