Echos of Springtime

For some years now, when the weather turns gentle and the word Springtime finds frequent utterance, this joyous poem by ee cummings begins to play with such giddiness through my mind and I begin to look forward to the changes (though I'm always sorry to leave mysweaters on the shelf and myscarves on the hooks and mycoat on the hanger.)

It's nice to be a child. I feel rememberance when thinking/reading this poem. I'm going to get mybabes a ballon next time they ask -- from one of those Dominican balloonpeople.

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

spring

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

it's

spring

and

the

goat-footed

balloonMan whistles

far

and

wee