Spring

 e.e. cummings knows spring, by golly. and spring has certainly sprung here in Durham. here's another poem.  (it is best read when sitting in a field with the sun shining on your face):

now winging selves sing sweetly,while ghosts(there

and here)of snow cringe;dazed an earth shakes sleep

out of her brightening mind:now everywhere

space tastes of the amazement which is hope

gone are those hugest hours of dark and cold

when blood and flesh to inexistence bow

(all that was doubtful's certain,timid's bold;

old's youthful and reluctant's eager now)

anywhere upward somethings yearn and stir

piercing a tangled wrack of wishless known:

nothing is like this keen(who breathes us)air

immortal with the fragrance of begin

winter is over--now(for me and you,

darling!)life's star prances the blinding blue

-e.e. cummings