when spring comes, life explodes with poetry.
it's funny, in march and april i love to read edna st.vincent millay, t.s. eliot, the romantics like coleridge and wordsworth and keats, whitman, and some contemporary poets too, like sharon doubiago. i think it harkens back to the year i was studying for my graduate exam, reading feverishly in the midst of a very busy social life. absorbing poetry and literature, then breathing it out through my skin. i've said it before, and it rings true every year:
poetry fills the springtime.
i wish i had a poetry reading group that met every vernal equinox. read poetry together to our hearts' content, if only for that one meticulously balanced day.
we celebrated the beginning of spring with a little picnic in sutter creek.
Afternoon on a Hill
I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.
I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes.
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.
And when the lights begin to show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down.
- Edna St. Vincent Millay