i wish that the sky would have burst open today like it wanted to instead of getting colder. all of a sudden we are thrust into spring goodness and then just like that it is snatched away. i could have cried.
if it gets less chilly (or more warm) and the wind keeps its pace i want to go fly a kite with someone. i believe that would be a good way to spend the afternoon.
i read some collins today, here he is:
American Sonnet
We do not speak like Petrarch or wear a hat like Spenser
and it is not fourtenn lines
like furrows in a samll, carefully plowed field
but the picture postcard, a poem on vacation,
that focuses us to sing our songs in little rooms
or pour our sentiments into measuring cups.
We write on the back of a waterfall or lake,
adding to the view a caption as conventional
as an Elizabethan woman's heliocentric eyes.
We locate an adjective for the weather.
We announce that we are having a wonderful time.
We express the wish that you were here
and hide the wish that we were where you are,
walking back from the mailbox, your head lowered
as you read and turn the thin message in your hands.
A slice of this place, a length of white beach,
a piazza or carved spires of a cathedral
will pierce the familiar place where you remain,
and you will toss on the table this rversible display:
a few square inches of whree we have strayed
and a compression of what we feel.
