Spring Has Sprung

"'Tis spring, 'tis spring,
Da boid is on da wing.
Absoid, absoid,
Da wing is on da boid.'"
Ogden Nash

Apologies to any members of my family, who have heard this silly ditty too often.

To me, it's the unexpected lyricism of the New York taxi driver, craning his/her neck to look at a blue sky far above the traffic jam. Unexpected only because of stereotypes about cynical attitudes and hardened sensibilities, and about certain accents' incompatibility with a love of language and literature.

Very soon, thousands and thousands of trees will leaf out and bloom on the streets and in the parks of the city. Migrating birds will rest in Jamaica Bay. Robins will puff their foolish chests and sing for mates.

May we humans care for our environment so that the miracle can continue.

(One of the loveliest robin flying photos on Flickr.com is called Leap of Faith, by moriarti-Ryan.)

The Well

From Snow and Summer, 1975,
by Solveig von Schoultz

Early in the morning I go to my well
sometimes so early that the pail fills with stars
sometimes in the night I go to my well
lift high the handle,
lower the pail
down into invisible blackness
down into unseen coolness.
The well is deep.
Each morning I've time to fear
that the water has sunk down into misty darkness,
and the chain will be swallowed by thirsty walls,
throat go dry,
heart shrink

pail hit bottom.