in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman
whistles far and wee
and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it’s
when the world is puddle-wonderful
the queer
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and
balloonMan whistles
wee e.e.cummings

I was introduced to this poem in fourth grade. I immediately fell in love with this poet who ignored conventional grammar. He even used lower case letters for his name. What’s not to love in that?

Since that year many, many years (okay decades) ago, I recite this poem in my mind each year. The words are delicious to me.

When we lived in San Diego there were only a few weeks of real spring. It was when the grasses were green and the poppies bloomed. Then everything returned to normal and most of the grass withered and it was dull.

Spring has been in our area for a while now. The yellow layer on everything outside, the hoarse cough I have all day long, the gummy eyes, the runny nose declares spring to my body. I dislike that part of spring, especially feeling like I am carrying a boulder on my chest with each step. Yes, that’s allergies.

My crocuses have bloomed and faded, the daffodils also. My hyacinths are mere shadows of what they were. The dogwood have shed their beautiful flower and now the leaves are taking over. The azaleas have been stunning this year, vibrant in pink, coral and white. Those blossoms, too, are shedding and soon all that will be is a green bush.

I woke up this morning to hearing rain. Lots of rain! “Ask the Lord for rain in the spring, for he makes the storm clouds. And he will send showers of rain so every field becomes a lush pasture.” Zechariah 10:1 (NLT) It was one of those days where the comfort and warmth of the bed and the gentle sound of raindrops tried to convince me not to get up.

I fought the desire to stay snuggled in my bed listening to the tranquil voice of nature. I walked to my windows and opened the curtains. The ground was saturated. The leaves shone with rain. Before me was a symphony of green. Light greens, yellow greens, dark waxy green all greeted me. Each spring I stand at my window amazed at the glorious creation in my front yard. After years of dullness, our Lord brought me into this harmony of trees, shrubs and flowers.

Surrounding my home today was my reminder of ee cummings. Thank you sir, for the words to describe my outdoors, mud-lucious, and puddle-wonderful. Thank you Lord for the spring rain.

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