We're leaving on Sunday to go see the four grandkids in Texas. I'm so excited. Even though this thought from Pooh isn't quite the right season, it is summer already, it captures just the wonderfulness I feel.
Noise, by Pooh
Oh, the butterflies are flying,
Now the winter days are dying,
And the primroses are trying
To be seen.
And he turtle-doves are cooing,
And the woods are up and doing,
For the violets are blue-ing
In the green.
Oh, the honey-bees are gumming
On their little wings, and humming
That the summer, which is coming,
Will be fun.
And the cows are almost cooing,
And the turtle-doves are mooing,
Which is why a Pooh is poohing
In the sun.
For the spring is really springing;
You can see a skylark singing,
And the blue-bells, which are ringing,
Can be heard.
and the cuckoo isn't cooing,
But he cucking and he's ooing,
And a Pooh is simply poohing
Like a bird.
More Poetry Friday here.
Saturday Review of Books: March 25, 2017
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