SPRING IS LIKE A PERHAPS HAND

April 20th. A late Spring? Saw my first dandelion two days ago and the first honeybees humming on the Nanking cherry, on a small section of what used to be a prosperous shrub. The lilacs are growing leaves. The roses just broke dormancy. The robins are fat. Other than that, the trees of Fort Collins are holding back. Perhaps the crab trees are only teasing us with emerging fingers of green and purple.

Here is a poem for Poetry Month, a favorite from college days:

SPRING IS LIKE A PERHAPS HAND

by E. E. Cummings (1894-1962)

III

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

spring is like a perhaps

Hand in a window

(carefully to

and fro moving New and

Old things,while

people stare carefully

moving a perhaps

fraction of flower here placing

an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.

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