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 every visited, where
always
its
spring) and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves
- e.e. cummings
Two very different views from our house at 9.00 a.m. this morning reminded me of this poem. I was heartily relieved not to see a snow scene, but I don't suppose we'll escape. I'm praying that it comes and goes before the hospital trip on December 7th - if we get snowed in it will be very difficult to get there. (Unless we go by balloon?)
