E.E. Cummings on spring

Tomorrow is the first day of spring, although in D.C., the trees and flowers have been blossoming for weeks. A good day to pull out a little E.E. Cummings, whose poems about spring are some of the liveliest out there. Remember these lines?

in Just-
spring          when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman
whistles          far          and wee
and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it’s
spring
when the world is puddle-wonderful

Or these:

Spring is like a perhaps hand

(which comes carefully

out of Nowhere)arranging

a window,into which people look(while

people stare

arranging and changing placing

carefully there a strange

thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

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