Nothing wrong with reading a poem 2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,647 times, ya know – nothing really matters or is wrong when flowers pick themselves, so go on get on this balloon, look at the flowers smiling at you, look at the small children sending you kisses with cookie crumbs on their spring clothes, say hello to the breeze, do a little dance in your lunch break, share an orange with someone, threaten to tickles your boss, come find me and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee and read you this poem, look the waves rolling, feel the earth quacking, suck the sun’s heat from its lips. Go on do it, today is not the day to doubt, do it before it is too late, before the balloon departs without you. For we all know nothings is worse than too late!
April 4th, 2017
Tunis 66°F
Chicago 48°F
Nairobi 72°F
San Francisco 59°F
Tehran 49°F
Ponta Delgada 62°F
Orumiyeh 39°F
St. Petersburg 82 °F
Washington, D.C 75°F
Sicily 54°F
E.E Cummings
who knows if the moon’s
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky–filled with pretty people?
( and if you and I should
get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we’d go up higher with all the pretty people
than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody’s ever visited,where
always
it’s
Spring)and everyone’s
in love and flowers pick themselves.
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we’d go up higher with all the pretty people
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody’s ever visited,where
it’s
Spring)and everyone’s
in love and flowers pick themselves.
One Poem At A Time 