boxofdelights

Thursday and Friday were snow days, but today feels like spring again. When I let the dogs out this morning I was sniffing the weather practically, assessing how wet it's going to be, how muddy, how cold, to decide what I'm going to try to do today.

The line "there will come soft rains" caught in my head. Words can make everything a delight.


There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows calling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum-trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

--Sara Teasdale

The Uncertainty of the Poet

I am a poet.
I am very fond of bananas.

I am bananas.
I am very fond of a poet.

I am a poet of bananas.
I am very fond.

A fond poet of 'I am, I am'-
Very bananas.

Fond of 'Am I bananas?
Am I?'-a very poet.

Bananas of a poet!
Am I fond? Am I very?

Poet bananas! I am.
I am fond of a 'very.'

I am of very fond bananas.
Am I a poet?

-- Wendy Cope

Published in "Serious Concerns", 1992, Faber & Faber.