E.E. Cummings is one of my favorite poets, especially during this time of year. He can describe spring better than anyone I've read.
This poem seems fits this spring so well - little by little, we see changes. Here it is:
Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
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
and from moving New and
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and
without breaking anything.
I sort of wish ole spring would move just a little bit quicker. I didn't enjoy getting my winter coat out again yesterday, after I thought it'd stay put until next winter. But - it is nice to enjoy each individual kind of flower emerge. First the crocuses, then the daffodils. I hope tulips are coming soon.
On a tangent, who knew E.E. Cummings was also a painter? This article and accompanying slide show give all kinds of information about Cummings' art. It sounds like he did plenty of painting, and some of those works are going to be restored.
Back on subject, do you have any favorite spring poems, books or stories?