One benefit of Summer was that each day we had more light to read by.
~Jeannette Walls, The Glass Castle
I wanted to write a byr a thoddaid for today but then I was (still) busy as a pig in a pie-eating contest. So instead I'm going to share a poem by D.H. Lawrence that I almost love, and suggest that it could be a great mentor poem for writing about summer. (Why do I *almost* love it? Because the ending is too much of a downer for me.)
By D. H. Lawrence
This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,
Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes,
Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between
Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes.
I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration
Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze
Of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration,
Faces of people streaming across my gaze.
And I, what fountain of fire am I among
This leaping combustion of spring? My spirit is tossed
About like a shadow buffeted in the throng
Of flames, a shadow that's gone astray, and is lost.
Reading to the Core has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Catherine!
Friday morning P.S. Expand the Court!