a poem for friday.

Whygrass

Being a 40 hour a week person, I fully comprehend the allure of Friday, but today, this Friday, kind of feels like a birthday party. The weather is gorgeous, the air is ripe with the smell of things in bloom and all of the windows and doors are wide open. It’s a day for exclamation points, and too-bright colors and lusciousness and perhaps a little indulgence. It’s a day for green grass, and early cocktails in the yard. It’s Gatsby.

So, while I’m off, out the door, I’m offering one of my favorite exclamations for a day, courtesy of a great enthusiast himself, mr e.e. cummings. (ha-I think I’ve posted this before, but I’m not searching the archives, so pardon my redundancy if it exists. What can I say? I love what I love!)

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

One thought on “a poem for friday.

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