03.06.09
BEGIN
This is now. Now is,
all there is. Don’t wait for Then;
strike the spark, light the fire.
Sit at the Beloved’s table,
feast with gusto, drink your fill
then dance
the way branches
of jasmine and cypress
dance in a spring wind.
The green earth
is your cloth;
tailor your robe
with dignity and grace.
~ Rumi ~
05.02.07
Poetry for Spring
A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King.
Emily Dickinson (1830–1886)
No. 1333 (c.1875)
in Just— spring
when the world is mud— luscious
the little lame balloonman whistles far and wee
E. E. Cummings (1894–1962)
Chansons Innocentes (1923)
April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
T.S. Eliot (1888–1965)
The Waste Land (1922)
maryt 
