Having said that, and noting that farmerman patched in one of my favorite poems about mudtime, I am enbravened to post Billy Collin's Today.
Today
If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house
and unlatch the door to the canary's cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,
a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies
seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking
a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,
releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage
so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting
into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.
Kara, what a pleasant surprise. I love the poem Ozymandius..."Look on my works ye mighty and dispair..." When I taught that poem, some of my students thought that "trunkless" mean without trunks. I tried writing about summer, but it fell into an abyss as everything is hot and dry here.
Wow! Just saw your poetic response, gal. Love poetry divided into two lines. Thanks!
