Spring mornings — they're in full swing here and I couldn't be more gleeful. I used to think of autumn as my favorite season, and maybe I still do. There's nothing like that first moment when you sense the heat of summer breaking apart, its shell cracking, and you embrace the respite to come, the cool breezes that will revive your summer-wilted self.
But the promises that come with spring offer a unique form of happiness. Everything is fresh and expansive, everything is possible. Both seasons offer their own brand of rebirth. A chance to embrace enormous changes, to dream up a future that looks different, could be different, will be different.
"O day — if I could cup my hands and drink of you," wrote Marion Strobel. Today is such a day. And everything in a weary world is possible.
Read more about Marion Strobel here.
by Marion Strobel
O day—if I could cup my hands and drink of you,
And make this shining wonder be
A part of me!
O day! O day!
You lift and sway your colors on the sky
Till I am crushed with beauty. Why is there
More of reeling sunlit air
Than I can breathe? Why is there sound
In silence? Why is a singing wound
About each hour?
And perfume when there is no flower?
O day! O Day! How may I press
Nearer to loveliness?
(This poem is in the public domain.)
The Poetry Friday roundup is being hosted by Matt Forrest Esenwine at Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme.
Photo credit: jggrz, Pixabay